at College, to remain there a length of time, must have strength of
character to go through a good deal and to come out of a good deal. Was
his beloved brother Frederick that man? No. They saw him, even as it
was, crushed. Misfortune crushed him. He had not power of recoil enough,
not elasticity enough, to be a long time in such a place, and yet
preserve his self-respect and feel conscious that he was a gentleman.
Frederick had not (if he might use the expression) Power enough to see
in any delicate little attentions and--and--Testimonials that he might
under such circumstances receive, the goodness of human nature, the fine
spirit animating the Collegians as a community, and at the same time
no degradation to himself, and no depreciation of his claims as a
gentleman. Gentlemen, God bless you!

Such was the homily with which he improved and pointed the occasion to
the company in the Lodge before turning into the sallow yard again,
and going with his own poor shabby dignity past the Collegian in the
dressing-gown who had no coat, and past the Collegian in the sea-side
slippers who had no shoes, and past the stout greengrocer Collegian in
the corduroy knee-breeches who had no cares, and past the lean clerk
Collegian in buttonless black who had no hopes, up his own poor shabby
staircase to his own poor shabby room.

There, the table was laid for his supper, and his old grey gown was
ready for him on his chair-back at the fire. His daughter put her
little prayer-book in her pocket--had she been praying for pity on all
prisoners and captives!--and rose to welcome him.

Uncle had gone home, then? she asked @ as she changed his coat and
gave him his black velvet cap. Yes, uncle had gone home. Had her father
enjoyed his walk? Why, not much, Amy; not much. No! Did he not feel
quite well?

As she stood behind him, leaning over his chair so lovingly, he looked
with downcast eyes at the fire. An uneasiness stole over him that was
like a touch of shame; and when he spoke, as he presently did, it was in
an unconnected and embarrassed manner.

'Something, I--hem!--I don't know what, has gone wrong with Chivery.
He is not--ha!--not nearly so obliging and attentive as usual to-night.
It--hem!--it's a little thing, but it puts me out, my love. It's
impossible to forget,' turning his hands over and over and looking
closely at them, 'that--hem!--that in such a life as mine, I am
unfortunately dependent on these men for something every