r Mrs. Jerome can't abide him; and what do I want wi'
two nags? But I'm fond o' the little chacenut, an' I shouldn't like to
sell him. So if you'll only ride him for me, you'll do me a kindness--you
will, indeed, Mr. Tryan.'

'Thank you, Mr. Jerome. I promise you to ask for him, when I feel that I
want a nag. There is no man I would more gladly be indebted to than you;
but at present I would rather not have a horse. I should ride him very
little, and it would be an inconvenience to me to keep him rather than
otherwise.'

Mr. Jerome looked troubled and hesitating, as if he had something on his
mind that would not readily shape itself into words. At last he said,
'You'll excuse me, Mr. Tryan, I wouldn't be takin' a liberty, but I know
what great claims you hev on you as a clergyman. Is it th' expense, Mr.
Tryan? is it the money?'

'No, my dear sir. I have much more than a single man needs. My way of
living is quite of my own choosing, and I am doing nothing but what I
feel bound to do, quite apart from money considerations. We cannot judge
for one another, you know; we have each our peculiar weaknesses and
temptations. I quite admit that it might be right for another man to
allow himself more luxuries, and I assure you I think it no superiority
in myself to do without them. On the contrary, if my heart were less
rebellious, and if I were less liable to temptation, I should not need
that sort of self-denial. But,' added Mr. Tryan, holding out his hand to
Mr. Jerome, 'I understand your kindness, and bless you for it. If I want
a horse, I shall ask for the chesnut.'

Mr. Jerome was obliged to rest contented with this promise, and rode home
sorrowfully, reproaching himself with not having said one thing he meant
to say when setting out, and with having 'clean forgot' the arguments he
had intended to quote from Mr. Stickney.

Mr. Jerome's was not the only mind that was seriously disturbed by the
idea that the curate was over-working himself. There were tender women's
hearts in which anxiety about the state of his affections was beginning
to be merged in anxiety about the state of his health. Miss Eliza Pratt
had at one time passed through much sleepless cogitation on the
possibility of Mr. Tryan's being attached to some lady at a distance--at
Laxeter, perhaps, where he had formerly held a curacy; and her fine eyes
kept close watch lest any symptom of engaged affections on his part
should escape her. It seemed an alarming