felt sure that it was chiefly connected with the debts which were being more and more distinctly reported, and he began to fear that any notion of Lydgate’s having resources or friends in the background must be quite illusory.  The rebuff he had met with in his first attempt to win Lydgate’s confidence, disinclined him to a second; but this news of the execution being actually in the house, determined the Vicar to overcome his reluctance.

Lydgate had just dismissed a poor patient, in whom he was much interested, and he came forward to put out his hand—­with an open cheerfulness which surprised Mr. Farebrother.  Could this too be a proud rejection of sympathy and help?  Never mind; the sympathy and help should be offered.

“How are you, Lydgate?  I came to see you because I had heard something which made me anxious about you,” said the Vicar, in the tone of a good brother, only that there was no reproach in it.  They were both seated by this time, and Lydgate answered immediately—­

“I think I know what you mean.  You had heard that there was an execution in the house?”

“Yes; is it true?”

“It was true,” said Lydgate, with an air of freedom, as if he did not mind talking about the affair now.  “But the danger is over; the debt is paid.  I am out of my difficulties now:  I shall be freed from debts, and able, I hope, to start afresh on a better plan.”

“I am very thankful to hear it,” said the Vicar, falling back in his chair, and speaking with that low-toned quickness which often follows the removal of a load.  “I like that better than all the news in the `Times.’  I confess I came to you with a heavy heart.”

“Thank you for coming,” said Lydgate, cordially.  “I can enjoy the kindness all the more because I am happier.  I have certainly been a good deal crushed.  I’m afraid I shall find the bruises still painful by-and by,” he added, smiling rather sadly; “but just now I can only feel that the torture-screw is off.”

Mr. Farebrother was silent for a moment, and then said earnestly, “My dear fellow, let me ask you one question.  Forgive me if I take a liberty.”

“I don’t believe you will ask anything that ought to offend me.”

“Then—­this is necessary to set my heart quite at rest—­you have not—­ have you?—­in order to pay your debts, incurred another debt which may harass you worse hereafter?”

“No,” said Lydgate, coloring slightly.  “There is no reason why I should not tell you—­since the fact is so—­that the person to whom I am indebted is Bulstrode.  He has made me a very handsome advance—­ a thousand pounds—­and he can afford to wait for repayment.”

“Well, that is generous,” said Mr. Farebrother, compelling himself to approve of the man whom he disliked.  His delicate feeling shrank from dwelling even in his thought on the fact that he had always urged Lydgate to avoid any personal entanglement with Bulstrode.  He added immediately, “And Bulstrode must naturally feel an interest in your welfare, after you have worked with him in a way which has probably reduced your income instead of adding to it.  I am glad to think that he has acted accordingly.”