The archdeacon had again recourse to his drawer, and twice read
through the essence of Sir Abraham Haphazard's law-enlightened and
law-bewildered brains. It was very clear that to Sir Abraham, the
justice of the old men's claim or the justice of Mr Harding's defence
were ideas that had never presented themselves. A legal victory
over an opposing party was the service for which Sir Abraham was, as
he imagined, to be paid; and that he, according to his lights, had
diligently laboured to achieve, and with probable hope of success.
Of the intense desire which Mr Harding felt to be assured on fit
authority that he was wronging no man, that he was entitled in true
equity to his income, that he might sleep at night without pangs of
conscience, that he was no robber, no spoiler of the poor; that he and
all the world might be openly convinced that he was not the man which
_The Jupiter_ had described him to be; of such longings on the part of
Mr Harding, Sir Abraham was entirely ignorant; nor, indeed, could it
be looked on as part of his business to gratify such desires. Such
was not the system on which his battles were fought, and victories
gained. Success was his object, and he was generally successful.
He conquered his enemies by their weakness rather than by his own
strength, and it had been found almost impossible to make up a case
in which Sir Abraham, as an antagonist, would not find a flaw.

The archdeacon was delighted with the closeness of the reasoning. To
do him justice, it was not a selfish triumph that he desired; he would
personally lose nothing by defeat, or at least what he might lose did
not actuate him; but neither was it love of justice which made him so
anxious, nor even mainly solicitude for his father-in-law. He was
fighting a part of a never-ending battle against a never-conquered
foe--that of the church against its enemies.