"I am told," continued the archdeacon, "that Soames declares the cheque was taken from a pocket-book which he left by accident in Crawley's house."
"You don't mean to say, archdeacon, that you think that Mr. Crawley—a clergyman—stole it!" said Mrs. Grantly.
"I don't say anything of the kind, my dear. But supposing Mr. Crawley to be as honest as the sun, you wouldn't wish Henry to marry his daughter."
"Certainly not," said the mother. "It would be an unfitting marriage. The poor girl has had no advantages."
"He is not able even to pay his baker's bill. I always thought Arabin was very wrong to place such a man in such a parish as Hogglestock. Of course the family could not live there." The Arabin here spoken of was Dr. Arabin, dean of Barchester. The dean and the archdeacon had married sisters, and there was much intimacy between the families.
"After all it is only a rumour as yet," said Mrs. Grantly.
"Fothergill told me only yesterday, that he sees her almost every day," said the father. "What are we to do, Griselda? You know how headstrong Henry is." The marchioness sat quite still; looking at the fire, and made no immediate answer to this address.
"There is nothing for it, but that you should tell him what you think," said the mother.
"If his sister were to speak to him, it might do much," said the archdeacon. To this Mrs. Grantly said nothing; but Mrs. Grantly's daughter understood very well that her mother's confidence in her was not equal to her father's. Lady Hartletop said nothing, but still sat, with impassive face, and eyes fixed upon the fire. "I think that if you were to speak to him, Griselda, and tell him that he would disgrace his family, he would be ashamed to go on with such a marriage," said the father. "He would feel, connected as he is with Lord Hartletop"
"I don't think he would feel anything about that," said Mrs. Grantly.
"I dare say not," said Lady Hartletop.
"I am sure he ought to feel it," said the father. They were all silent, and sat looking at the fire.
"I suppose, papa, you allow Henry an income," said Lady Hartletop, after a while.
"Indeed I do,—eight hundred a year."
"Then I think I should tell him that that must depend upon his conduct. Mamma, if you won't mind ringing the bell, I will send for Cecile, and go upstairs and dress." Then the marchioness went upstairs
