ould be much to him; but he could not but look
forward to self-reproach if eating and drinking were to be the joy of
his life. Then he thought of Dolly's life,--how much purer and better and
nobler it had been than his own. She talked in a slighting, careless
tone of her usual day's work, but how much of her time had been occupied
in doing the tasks of others? He knew well that she disliked the
Carrolls. She would speak of her own dislike of them as of her great
sin, of which it was necessary that she should repent in sackcloth and
ashes.

But yet how she worked for the family! turning old dresses into new
frocks, as though the girls who had worn them, and the children who were
to wear them, had been to her her dearest friends. Every day she went
across to the house intent upon doing good offices; and this was the
repentance in sackcloth and ashes which she exacted from herself. Could
not he do as she did? He could not darn Minnie's and Brenda's stockings,
but he might do something to make those children more worthy of their
cousin's care. He could not associate with his brother-in-law, because
he was sure that Mr. Carroll would not endure his society; but he might
labor to do something for the reform even of this abominable man. Before
Dolly had come back to him he had resolved that he could only redeem his
life from the stagnation with which it was threatened by working for
others, now that the work of his own life had come to a close. "Well,
Dolly," he said, as soon as she had entered the room, "have you heard
any thing more about Mr. Juniper?"

"Have you been here ever since, papa?"

"Yes, indeed; I used to sit at chambers for six or seven hours at a
stretch, almost without getting out of my chair."

"And are you still employed about those awful papers?"

"I have not looked at them since you left the room."

"Then you must have been asleep."

"No, indeed; I have not been asleep. You left me too much to think of to
enable me to sleep. What am I to do with myself besides eating and
drinking, so that I shall not sleep always on this side of the grave?"

"There are twenty things, papa,--thirty, fifty, for a man so minded as
you are." This she said trying to comfort him.

"I must endeavor to find one or two of the fifty." Then he went back to
his papers, and really worked hard on that day.

On the following morning, early, he went across to Bolsover Terrace, to
begin his task of reproving the Carroll family, w