down through the forest: four open green rides, which all converge together at a large iron gate-way, the barrier which divides the private grounds from the Chase. The Sowerbys, for many generations, have been rangers of the Chase of Chaldicotes, thus having almost as wide an authority over the crown forest as over their own. But now all this is to cease, for the forest will be disforested.
It was nearly dark as Mark Robarts drove up through the avenue of lime-trees to the hall door; but it was easy to see that the house, which was dead and silent as the grave through nine months of the year, was now alive in all its parts. There were lights in many of the windows, and a noise of voices came from the stables, and servants were moving about, and dogs barked, and the dark gravel before the front steps was cut up with many a coachwheel.
"Oh, be that you, sir, Mr. Robarts?" said a groom, taking the parson's horse by the head, and touching his own hat. "I hope I see your reverence well."
"Quite well, Bob, thank you. All well at Chaldicotes?"
"Pretty bobbish, Mr. Robarts. Deal of life going on here now, sir. The bishop and his lady came this morning."
"Oh—ah—yes. I understood they were to be here. Any of the young ladies?"
"One young lady—Miss Olivia, I think they call her, your reverence."
"And how's Mr. Sowerby?"
"Very well, your reverence. He, and Mr. Harold Smith, and Mr. Fothergill—that's the duke's man of business, you know—is getting off their horses now in the stable-yard there."
"Home from hunting—eh, Bob?"
"Yes, sir, just home this minute." And Mr. Robarts walked into the house, his portmanteau following on a foot-boy's shoulder.
It will be seen that our young vicar was very intimate at Chaldicotes; so much so that the groom knew him, and talked to him about the people in the house. Yes, he was intimate there—much more than he had given the Framley people to understand. Not that he had willfully and overtly deceived any one; not that he had ever spoken a false word about Chaldicotes; but he had never boasted
