Lufton; and that was
the only severe word she said about any of Mark's visitings. As Sir
George Meredith was there, Robarts could say nothing then to Lord
Lufton about Mr. Sowerby and Mr. Sowerby's money affairs; but he did
make an appointment for a _tete-a-tete_ on the next morning.

"You must come down and see my nags, Mark; they came to-day. The
Merediths will be off at twelve, and then we can have an hour
together." Mark said he would, and then went home with his wife under
his arm.

"Well, now, is not she kind?" said Fanny, as soon as they were out on
the gravel together.

"She is kind; kinder than I can tell you just at present. But did you
ever know anything so bitter as she is to the poor bishop? And really
the bishop is not so bad."

"Yes; I know something much more bitter: and that is what she thinks
of the bishop's wife. And you know, Mark, it was so unladylike, her
getting up in that way. What must the people of Barchester think of
her?"

"As far as I could see, the people of Barchester liked it."

"Nonsense, Mark; they could not. But never mind that now. I want you
to own that she is good." And then Mrs. Robarts went on with another
long eulogy on the dowager. Since that affair of the pardon-begging
at the parsonage, Mrs. Robarts hardly knew how to think well enough
of her friend. And the evening had been so pleasant after the
dreadful storm and threatenings of hurricanes; her husband had been
so well received after his lapse of judgement; the wounds that had
looked so sore had been so thoroughly healed, and everything was so
pleasant. How all of this would have been changed had she known of
that little bill! At twelve the next morning the lord and the vicar
were walking through the Framley stables together. Quite a commotion
had been made there, for the larger portion of those buildings had of
late years seldom been used. But now all was crowding and activity.
Seven or eight very precious animals had followed Lord Lufton from
Leicestershire, and all of them required dimensions that were thought
to be rather excessive by the Framley old-fashioned groom. My lord,
however, had a head man of his own who took the matter quite into his
own hands. Mark, priest as he was, was quite worldly enough to be
fond of a good horse; and for some little time allowed Lord Lufton
to descant on the merit of this four-year-old filly, and that
magnificent Rattlebones colt, out of a Mousetrap mare; but he had
other thin