of the nursery for the Philistines. "Mark," he
said, "do not trouble yourself about this more than you can help.
The men have ceased doing anything, and they shall leave the place
to-morrow morning."

"And how will the money--be paid?" said the poor clergyman.

"Do not bother yourself about that at present. It shall so be managed
that the burden shall fall ultimately on yourself--not on any one
else. But I am sure it must be a comfort to you to know that your
wife need not be driven out of her drawing-room."

"But, Lufton, I cannot allow you--after what has passed--and at the
present moment--"

"My dear fellow, I know all about it, and I am coming to that just
now. You have employed Curling, and he shall settle it; and upon my
word, Mark, you shall pay the bill. But, for the present emergency,
the money is at my banker's."

"But, Lufton--"

"And to deal honestly, about Curling's bill I mean, it ought to be as
much my affair as your own. It was I that brought you into this mess
with Sowerby, and I know now how unjust about it I was to you up in
London. But the truth is that Sowerby's treachery had nearly driven
me wild. It has done the same to you since, I have no doubt."

"He has ruined me," said Robarts.

"No, he has not done that. No thanks to him though; he would not have
scrupled to do it had it come in his way. The fact is, Mark, that you
and I cannot conceive the depth of fraud in such a man as that. He
is always looking for money; I believe that in all his hours of most
friendly intercourse,--when he is sitting with you over your wine,
and riding beside you in the field,--he is still thinking how he can
make use of you to tide him over some difficulty. He has lived in
that way till he has a pleasure in cheating, and has become so clever
in his line of life that if you or I were with him again to-morrow he
would again get the better of us. He is a man that must be absolutely
avoided; I, at any rate, have learned to know so much." In the
expression of which opinion Lord Lufton was too hard upon poor
Sowerby; as indeed we are all apt to be too hard in forming an
opinion upon the rogues of the world. That Mr. Sowerby had been a
rogue, I cannot deny. It is roguish to lie, and he had been a great
liar. It is roguish to make promises which the promiser knows he
cannot perform, and such had been Mr. Sowerby's daily practice. It
is roguish to live on other men's money, and Mr. Sowerby had long
been doing so. It