He did not know his way very well, having threaded a number of small dark streets, in the rain, the night before, led by the vague directions of various officious guides; but he had a notion in which direction it was, and he had abundance of time before him. He had not gone very far, indeed, before he met an individual who might easily have guided him, and whom he passed with a curious consciousness that here would be the most vulnerable member of the family--no less a person than Mr. Bates himself; a little stout man in a large white neckcloth, with a book in his hand, and an appearance of ink spots about him, which betrayed the existence of what is euphemistically called writing materials somewhere about his person. The expression of his face was not less characteristic of his profession. No softening atmosphere of rum was about him now. His face was red, probably from those long continued, though moderate evening indulgences, and his lips were pursed up and tight. He looked the kind of man whose proceedings would be summary, who would take no excuses, who would be rigid as fate in the punctuality of his applications. Durant watched him furtively from the other side of the street; and the conclusion to which he came was that Mr. Bates, though obdurate with his district, would be incapable of standing an assault from anyone of superior condition; and however arbitrary he might be to a defaulter in rates, would not venture to withstand a Sir John, should he demand the sacrifice of his Iphigenia. Should he approach him at once, thus unprotected, in the middle of his duties, and frighten him into a promise to shut his doors upon Arthur? For a moment Durant hesitated; for, in the first place, he was not Sir John, and in the second place, he distrusted the power of the tax-gatherer to contend with “those women.” To subdue the women themselves was a more desperate piece of work, but it would be more effectual were it done. With this conclusion, he went on making his way in the direction which he supposed the right one. He would not awaken curiosity by inquiring, and he had abundant time, as it was still early. The forenoon was bright and genial, but the place was very quiet. The men had been swept out of it by the morning train. Except Mr. Bates, and the butchers and bakers, and a stray parson of the High Church sect, who blocked out a large piece of sunshine with his cassock and cloak, there was no one visible, for it was too early for the female population to leave the business of their houses. He was sure to find all the females of the Bates’ family, he thought, in the stuffy little parlour, with probably some preparations for dinner going on side by side with the bonnet making. And the heroine, what might she be doing?--not seated on the sofa, nor love-making he hoped; the bonnet was better than that. He made several little pictures of her in his imagination, now standing upon her dignity