that everything should be told to Lady Lufton. Mark, however, could
not bring himself to do that. "It would seem," he said, "as though I
wanted her to lend me the money."

On the following morning Mark did ride into Barchester, dreading,
however, lest he should be arrested on his journey, and he did see a
lawyer. During his absence two calls were made at the parsonage--one
by a very rough-looking individual, who left a suspicious document
in the hands of the servant, purporting to be an invitation--not to
dinner--from one of the Judges of the land; and the other call was
made by Lady Lufton in person.

Mrs. Robarts had determined to go down to Framley Court on that day.
In accordance with her usual custom she would have been there within
an hour or two of Lady Lufton's return from London, but things
between them were not now as they usually had been. This affair of
Lucy's must make a difference, let them both resolve to the contrary
as they might. And, indeed, Mrs. Robarts had found that the closeness
of her intimacy with Framley Court had been diminishing from day to
day since Lucy had first begun to be on friendly terms with Lord
Lufton. Since that she had been less at Framley Court than usual;
she had heard from Lady Lufton less frequently by letter during her
absence than she had done in former years, and was aware that she was
less implicitly trusted with all the affairs of the parish. This had
not made her angry, for she was in a manner conscious that it must be
so. It made her unhappy, but what could she do? She could not blame
Lucy, nor could she blame Lady Lufton. Lord Lufton she did blame,
but she did so in the hearing of no one but her husband. Her mind,
however, was made up to go over and bear the first brunt of her
ladyship's arguments, when she was stopped by her ladyship's arrival.
If it were not for this terrible matter of Lucy's love--a matter
on which they could not now be silent when they met--there would
be twenty subjects of pleasant, or, at any rate, not unpleasant
conversation. But even then there would be those terrible bills
hanging over her conscience, and almost crushing her by their weight.
At the moment in which Lady Lufton walked up to the drawing-room
window, Mrs. Robarts held in her hand that ominous invitation from
the Judge. Would it not be well that she should make a clean breast
of it all, disregarding what her husband had said? It might be well:
only this--she had never done anythi