brown locks which she had once loved to brush
back, scorning, as she would boast to herself, to care that they
should be seen were now sparse enough and all untidy and unclean.
It was matter of little thought now whether they were seen or no.
Whether he could be made fit to go into his pulpit--whether they
might be fed--those four innocents--and their backs kept from the
cold wind--that was now the matter of her thought. And then two of
them died, and she went forth herself to see them laid under the
frost-bound sod, lest he should faint in his work over their graves.
For he would ask aid from no man--such at least was his boast through
all. Two of them died, but their illness had been long; and then
debts came upon them. Debt, indeed, had been creeping on them with
slow but sure feet during the last five years. Who can see his
children hungry, and not take bread if it be offered? Who can see
his wife lying in sharpest want, and not seek a remedy if there be a
remedy within reach? So debt had come upon them, and rude men pressed
for small sums of money--for sums small to the world, but impossibly
large to them. And he would hide himself within there, in that cranny
of an inner chamber--hide himself with deep shame from the world,
with shame, and a sinking heart, and a broken spirit.

But had such a man no friend? it will be said. Such men, I take it,
do not make many friends. But this man was not utterly friendless.
Almost every year one visit was paid to him in his Cornish curacy
by a brother clergyman, an old college friend, who, as far as
might in him lie, did give aid to the curate and his wife. This
gentleman would take up his abode for a week at a farmer's, in the
neighbourhood, and though he found Mr. Crawley in despair, he would
leave him with some drops of comfort in his soul. Nor were the
benefits in this respect all on one side. Mr. Crawley, though at some
periods weak enough for himself, could be strong for others; and,
more than once, was strong to the great advantage of this man whom he
loved. And then, too, pecuniary assistance was forthcoming--in those
earlier years not in great amount, for this friend was not then
among the rich ones of the earth--but in amount sufficient for that
moderate hearth, if only its acceptance could have been managed. But
in that matter there were difficulties without end. Of absolute money
tenders Mr. Crawley would accept none. But a bill here and there was
paid, the wife a