t every turn; either an apology or else a somewhat violent assertion
of right. Each younger male reader may, perhaps, reply that he has no
thought of becoming a sheriff's officer; but then are there not other
cognate lines of life to which, perhaps, the attention of some such
may be attracted? On the evening of the day on which they went Mark
received a note from Lady Lufton begging him to call early on the
following morning, and immediately after breakfast he went across to
Framley Court. It may be imagined that he was not in a very happy
frame of mind, but he felt the truth of his wife's remark that the
first plunge into cold water was always the worst. Lady Lufton was
not a woman who would continually throw his disgrace into his teeth,
however terribly cold might be the first words with which she spoke
of it. He strove hard as he entered her room to carry his usual look
and bearing, and to put out his hand to greet her with his customary
freedom, but he knew that he failed. And it may be said that no good
man who has broken down in his goodness can carry the disgrace of his
fall without some look of shame. When a man is able to do that, he
ceases to be in any way good.

"This has been a distressing affair," said Lady Lufton, after her
first salutation.

"Yes, indeed," said he. "It has been very sad for poor Fanny."

"Well; we must all have our little periods of grief; and it may
perhaps be fortunate if none of us have worse than this. She will not
complain, herself, I am sure."

"She complain!"

"No, I am sure she will not. And now all I've got to say, Mr.
Robarts, is this: I hope you and Lufton have had enough to do with
black sheep to last you your lives; for I must protest that your late
friend Mr. Sowerby is a black sheep." In no possible way could Lady
Lufton have alluded to the matter with greater kindness than in
thus joining Mark's name with that of her son. It took away all the
bitterness of the rebuke, and made the subject one on which even he
might have spoken without difficulty. But now, seeing that she was so
gentle to him, he could not but lean the more hardly on himself.

"I have been very foolish," said he, "very foolish, and very wrong,
and very wicked."

"Very foolish, I believe, Mr. Robarts--to speak frankly and once for
all; but, as I also believe, nothing worse. I thought it best for
both of us that we should just have one word about it, and now I
recommend that the matter be never menti