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"Have you had a pleasant evening?" Lady Lufton said, when she and Griselda were seated together with their feet on the fender of her ladyship's dressing-room. Lady Lufton had especially invited her guest into this, her most private sanctum, to which as a rule none had admittance but her daughter, and sometimes Fanny Robarts.

The reader may, perhaps, remember the impetuosity with which he rejected the advice on this subject which was conveyed to him by Mr Robarts with all the authority of Archdeacon Grantly's name. "Tell the archdeacon," he had said, "that I will have none of his advice." And then Mr Robarts had left him, fully convinced that any further interference on his part could be of no avail.

Mr Robarts had been of opinion that Mr Crawley should have given way; and Lord Lufton, who shared his mother's intense dislike of everything that came from the palace, had sworn that he was right to resist. The sympathy of the whole party had been with Mr Crawley; but they had all agreed that he had stolen the money. "I fear he'll have to give way to the bishop at last," Lord Lufton had said.

Dear Mrs. Robarts, you must not be surprised at him. His lot is sometimes very hard to bear; such things are so much worse for a man than for a woman." Fanny was not quite prepared to admit this in her own heart, but she made no reply on that head. "I am sure I hope we may be able to be of use to you," she said, "if you will only look upon me as an old friend, and write to me if you want me.

"And shall we all have to go and live at Barchester at once?" asked Lucy. "The house will not be furnished, will it, Mark!" said his wife. "I don't know how we shall get on." "Don't frighten yourselves. I shall take lodgings in Barchester." "And we shall not see you all the time," said Mrs. Robarts with dismay.

Robarts had finished reading prayers to the four servants. Or, I should say rather, that such would in its usual course have been that letter's destiny. As it was, however, it reached Silverbridge on Sunday, and lay there till the Monday, as the Framley people have declined their Sunday post. And then again, when the letter was delivered at the parsonage, on that wet Monday morning, Mrs.

By the by, where is your brother?" "At home," said Robarts; "at least I presume so." "At Framley or at Barchester? I believe he was in residence at Barchester not long since." "He's at Framley now, I know. I got a letter only yesterday from his wife, with a commission. He was there, and Lord Lufton had just left." "Yes; Lufton was down. He started for Norway this morning.

But, Mr Robarts, I should have thought a deal about it before I should have brought such a man as Mr Crawley before a bench of magistrates on that charge." "But between me and you, Mr Walker, did he steal the money?" "Well, Mr Robarts, you know how I'm placed." "Mr Crawley is my friend, and of course I want to assist him.

Robarts that I shall be here at the school, at eleven o'clock to-morrow?" And then he bowed, taking off his hat to them, and they drove on. "If he really does care about her comfort, I shall not think so badly of him," said Lucy. The Triumph of the Giants

For Mark himself was a handsome fellow. At this time the vicar was about twenty-five years of age, and the future Mrs. Robarts was two or three years younger. Nor did she come quite empty-handed to the vicarage. It cannot be said that Fanny Monsell was an heiress, but she had been left with a provision of some few thousand pounds.