about his manner as he spoke, which struck Robarts, and made him think that this promised matter to be spoken of would not be agreeable in discussion. He did not know whether Lord Lufton might not again be mixed up with Tozer and the bills.
"You will dine with us to-day," he said, "if, as I suppose, you are all alone."
"Yes, I am all alone."
"Then you'll come?"
"Well, I don't quite know. No, I don't think I can go over to dinner. Don't look so disgusted. I'll explain it all to you just now."
What could there be in the wind; and how was it possible that Tozer's bill should make it inexpedient for Lord Lufton to dine at the parsonage? Robarts, however, said nothing farther about it at the moment, but turned off to look at the horses.
"They are an uncommonly nice set of animals," said he.
"Well, yes; I don't know. When a man has four or five horses to look at, somehow or other he never has one fit to go. The chestnut mare is a picture now that nobody wants her, but she wasn't able to carry me well to hounds a single day last winter. Take them in. Pounce; that'll do."
"Won't your lordship run your eye over the old black 'oss?" said Pounce, the head groom, in a melancholy tone; "he's as fine, sir—as fine as a stag."
"To tell you the truth, I think they're too fine; but that'll do; take them in. And now, Mark, if you're at leisure, we'll take a turn round the place."
Mark, of course, was at leisure, and so they started on their walk.
"You're too difficult to please about your stable," Robarts began.
"Never mind the stable now," said Lord Lufton. "The truth is, I am not thinking about it. Mark," he then said, very abruptly, "I want you to be frank with me. Has your sister ever spoken to you about me?"
"My sister—Lucy?"
"Yes, your sister Lucy."
"No, never—at least nothing especial—nothing that I can remember at this moment."
"Nor your wife?"
"Spoken about you! Fanny? Of course she has, in an
