rms. It was,
then, a positive fact, that in punishment for his weakness in having
signed that bill he would have to pay, not only four hundred pounds,
but four hundred pounds with interest, and expenses of renewal, and
commission, and bill stamps. Yes; he had certainly got among the
Philistines during that visit of his to the duke. It began to appear
to him pretty clearly that it would have been better for him to have
relinquished altogether the glories of Chaldicotes and Gatherum
Castle.

And now, how was he to tell his wife?

CHAPTER X

Lucy Robarts

And now, how was he to tell his wife? That was the consideration
heavy on Mark Robarts's mind when last we left him; and he turned
the matter often in his thoughts before he could bring himself to
a resolution. At last he did do so, and one may say that it was
not altogether a bad one, if only he could carry it out. He would
ascertain in what bank that bill of his had been discounted. He
would ask Sowerby, and if he could not learn from him, he would go
to the three banks in Barchester. That it had been taken to one of
them he felt tolerably certain. He would explain to the manager his
conviction that he would have to make good the amount, his inability
to do so at the end of the three months, and the whole state of his
income; and then the banker would explain to him how the matter might
be arranged. He thought that he could pay L50 every three months with
interest. As soon as this should have been concerted with the banker,
he would let his wife know all about it. Were he to tell her at the
present moment, while the matter was all unsettled, the intelligence
would frighten her into illness. But on the next morning there came
to him tidings by the hands of Robin postman, which for a long while
upset all his plans. The letter was from Exeter. His father had been
taken ill, and had very quickly been pronounced to be in danger. That
evening--the evening on which his sister wrote--the old man was much
worse, and it was desirable that Mark should go off to Exeter as
quickly as possible. Of course he went to Exeter--again leaving the
Framley souls at the mercy of the Welsh Low Churchman. Framley is
only four miles from Silverbridge, and at Silverbridge he was on
the direct road to the West. He was, therefore, at Exeter before
nightfall on that day. But, nevertheless, he arrived there too late
to see his father again alive. The old man's illness had been sudden
a