n in
power, and of others who might be there; a man who could talk about
the world as one knowing the matter of which he talked. And moreover,
whatever might be his ways of life at other times, when in the
presence of a clergyman he rarely made himself offensive to clerical
tastes. He neither swore, nor brought his vices on the carpet, nor
sneered at the faith of the Church. If he was no Churchman himself,
he at least knew how to live with those who were.

How was it possible that such a one as our vicar should not relish
the intimacy of Mr. Sowerby? It might be very well, he would say to
himself, for a woman like Lady Lufton to turn up her nose at him--for
Lady Lufton, who spent ten months of the year at Framley Court, and
who during those ten months, and for the matter of that, during the
two months also which she spent in London, saw no one out of her own
set. Women did not understand such things, the vicar said to himself;
even his own wife--good, and nice, and sensible, and intelligent as
she was--even she did not understand that a man in the world must
meet all sorts of men; and that in these days it did not do for a
clergyman to be a hermit. 'Twas thus that Mark Robarts argued when he
found himself called upon to defend himself before the bar of his own
conscience for going to Chaldicotes and increasing his intimacy with
Mr. Sowerby. He did know that Mr. Sowerby was a dangerous man; he was
aware that he was over head and ears in debt, and that he had already
entangled young Lord Lufton in some pecuniary embarrassment; his
conscience did tell him that it would be well for him, as one of
Christ's soldiers, to look out for companions of a different stamp.
But nevertheless he went to Chaldicotes, not satisfied with himself
indeed, but repeating to himself a great many arguments why he should
be so satisfied.

He was shown into the drawing-room at once, and there he found Mrs.
Harold Smith, with Mrs. and Miss Proudie, and a lady whom he had
never before seen, and whose name he did not at first hear mentioned.

"Is that Mr. Robarts?" said Mrs. Harold Smith, getting up to greet
him, and screening her pretended ignorance under the veil of the
darkness. "And have you really driven over four-and-twenty miles of
Barsetshire roads on such a day as this to assist us in our little
difficulties? Well, we can promise you gratitude at any rate." And
then the vicar shook hands with Mrs. Proudie, in that deferential
manner whic