, the county
magistrate, the man of acres, the nephew of Mr. Chamberlaine,
respected by all who knew him,--with the single exception of the
Marquis of Trowbridge,--was now so much reduced that he felt himself
to be an inferior being to Mr. Cockey, with whom he breakfasted. He
had come to Loring, and now he was there he did not know what to do
with himself. He had come there, in truth, not because he really
thought he could do any good, but driven out of his home by sheer
misery. He was a man altogether upset, and verging on to a species of
insanity. He was so uneasy in his mind that he could read nothing.
He was half-ashamed of being looked at by those who knew him; and
had felt some relief in the society of Mr. Cockey till Mr. Cockey
had become jovial with wine, simply because Mr. Cockey was so poor a
creature that he felt no fear of him. But as he had come to Loring,
it was necessary that he should do something. He could not come to
Loring and go back again without saying a word to anybody. Fenwick
would ask him questions, and the truth would come out. There came
upon him this morning an idea that he would not go back home;--that
he would leave Loring and go away without giving any reason to any
one. He was his own master. No one would be injured by anything
that he might do. He had a right to spend his income as he pleased.
Everything was distasteful that reminded him of Bullhampton. But
still he knew that this was no more than a madman's idea;--that it
would ill become him so to act. He had duties to perform, and he must
perform them, let them be ever so distasteful. It was only an idea,
made to be rejected; but, nevertheless, he thought of it.

To do something, however, was incumbent on him. After breakfast he
sauntered up the hill and saw Captain Marrable enter the house in
which Mary Lowther lived. He felt thoroughly ashamed of himself
in thus creeping about, and spying things out,--and, in truth, he
had not intended thus to watch his rival. He wandered into the
churchyard, sat there sometime on the tombstones, and then again went
down to the inn. Mr. Cockey was going to Gloucester by an afternoon
train, and invited him to join an early dinner at two. He assented,
though by this time he had come to hate Mr. Cockey. Mr. Cockey
assumed an air of superiority, and gave his opinions about matters
political and social as though his companion were considerably below
him in intelligence and general information. He dicta