pairs. He had died soon
after, and the repairs had not been effected. A year after his death
an application,--almost a demand,--was made upon our Squire by the
miller, and the miller had been wrathful even when the Squire said
that he would look into it. The Squire did look into it, and came to
the conclusion that as he received no rent at all for the house and
mill, and as his own property would be improved if the house and
mill were made to vanish, and as he had no evidence whatever of any
undertaking on his father's part, as any such promise on his father's
part must simply have been a promise of a gift of money out of his
own pocket, and further as the miller was impudent, he would not
repair the mill. Ultimately he offered L20 towards the repairs, which
the miller indignantly refused. Readers will be able to imagine how
pretty a quarrel there would thus be between the landlord and his
tenant. When all this was commencing,--at the time, that is, of the
old Squire's death,--Brattle had the name of being a substantial
person; but misfortune had come upon him; doctors' bills had been
very heavy, his children had drained his resources from him, and it
was now known that it set him very hard to pay his way. In regard to
the house and the mill, some absolutely essential repairs had been
done at his own costs; but the L20 had never been taken.

In some respects the man's fortune in life had been good. His wife
was one of those loving, patient, self-denying, almost heavenly human
beings, one or two of whom may come across one's path, and who, when
found, are generally found in that sphere of life to which this woman
belonged. Among the rich there is that difficulty of the needle's
eye; among the poor there is the difficulty of the hardness of their
lives. And the miller loved this woman with a perfect love. He hardly
knew that he loved her as he did. He could be harsh to her and
tyrannical. He could say cutting words to her. But at any time in his
life he would have struck over the head, with his staff, another man
who should have said a word to hurt her. They had lost many children;
but of the six who remained, there were four of whom they might be
proud. The eldest was a farmer, married and away, doing well in a far
part of the county, beyond Salisbury, on the borders of Hampshire.
The father in his emergencies had almost been tempted to ask his son
for money; but hitherto he had refrained. A daughter was married to
a tr