"I'll carry the case through for you. It certainly is not just my line of business,—but I'll see it carried through for you."
"Out of your own pocket?"
"Never mind; when I say I'll do a thing, I'll do it."
"No, Mr. Toogood; this thing you can not do. But do not suppose I am the less grateful."
"What is it I can do then? Why do you come to me if you won't take my advice?"
After this the conversation went on for a considerable time without touching on any point which need be brought palpably before the reader's eye. The attorney continued to beg the clergyman to have his case managed in the usual way, and went so far as to tell him that he would be ill-treating his wife and family if he continued to be obstinate. But the clergyman was not shaken from his resolve, and was at last able to ask Mr. Toogood what he had better do,—how he had better attempt to defend himself,—on the understanding that no legal aid was to be employed. When this question was at last asked in such a way as to demand an answer, Mr. Toogood sat for a moment or two in silence. He felt that an answer was not only demanded, but almost enforced; and yet there might be much difficulty in giving it.
"Mr. Toogood," said Mr. Crawley, seeing the attorney's hesitation, "I declare to you before God, that my only object will be to enable the jury to know about this sad matter all that I know myself. If I could open my breast to them I should be satisfied. But then a prisoner can say nothing; and what he does say is ever accounted false."
"That is why you should have legal assistance."
"We had already come to a conclusion on that matter, as I thought," said Mr. Crawley.
Mr. Toogood paused for another moment or two, and then dashed at his answer; or rather, dashed at a counter question. "Mr. Crawley, where did you get the cheque? You must pardon me, you know; or, if you wish it, I will not press the question. But so much hangs on that, you know."