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 which is due from a vicar to his bishop's wife; and Mrs.
Proudie returned the greeting with all that smiling condescension
which a bishop's wife should show to a vicar. Miss Proudie was not
quite so civil.
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