rmer clergyman, worn out with many daily cares and quite
unsupported by mental resources, was but a tool in Elizabeth's able
hands. He did not indeed feel any humiliation at the idea of trying
to borrow the cash, for his nature was not finely strung, and money
troubles had made him callous to the verge of unscrupulousness; but he
did not like the idea of a journey to London, where he had not been for
more than twenty years, and the expenditure that it entailed. Still he
acted as Elizabeth bade him, even to keeping the expedition secret
from Beatrice. Beatrice, as her sister explained to him, was proud as
Lucifer, and might raise objections if she knew that he was going to
London to borrow money of Mr. Bingham. This indeed she would certainly
have done.

On the following afternoon--it was the Friday before Whit-Sunday, and
the last day of the Easter sittings--Geoffrey sat in his chambers, in
the worst possible spirits, thoroughly stale and worn out with work.
There was a consultation going on, and his client, a pig-headed Norfolk
farmer, who was bent upon proceeding to trial with some extraordinary
action for trespass against his own landlord, was present with his
solicitor. Geoffrey in a few short, clear words had explained the
absurdity of the whole thing, and strongly advised him to settle, for
the client had insisted on seeing him, refusing to be put off with a
written opinion. But the farmer was not satisfied, and the solicitor was
now endeavouring to let the pure light of law into the darkness of his
injured soul.

Geoffrey threw himself back in his chair, pushed the dark hair from his
brow, and pretended to listen. But in a minute his mind was far
away. Heavens, how tired he was! Well, there would be rest for a few
days--till Tuesday, when he had a matter that must be attended to--the
House had risen and so had the courts. What should he do with himself?
Honoria wished to go and stay with her brother, Lord Garsington,
and, for a wonder, to take Effie with her. He did not like it, but he
supposed that he should have to consent. One thing was, _he_ would not
go. He could not endure Garsington, Dunstan, and all their set. Should
he run down to Bryngelly? The temptation was very great; that would be
happiness indeed, but his common sense prevailed against it. No, it was
better that he should not go there. He would leave Bryngelly alone. If
Beatrice wished him to come she would have said so, and she had never
even hi