t may as well be observed at
once, and his misfortunes were all the harder to bear because he was not
to blame for them. He had talent, and was industrious and indefatigable,
and yet, somehow or other, the Fates seemed to be against him. If he
had been less honest or less willing, he might perhaps have been more
successful; but in his intercourse with the world's slippery ones he
customarily found himself imposed upon. He had done hard work for which
he had never been paid, and work for which he had been paid badly; he
had fought honestly to gain footing, and, somehow or other, luck had
seemed to be against him, for certainly he had not gained it yet. Honest
men admired and respected him, and men of intellectual worth prophesied
better days; but so far it had really seemed that the people who were
willing to befriend him were powerless, and those who were powerful
cared little about the matter. So he alternately struggled and
despaired, and yet retained his good nature, and occasionally enjoyed
life heartily in defiance of circumstances. With every member of the
Crewe household he was popular, from Tod to Mrs. Phil. His engagement
to Dolly they regarded as a satisfactory arrangement. That he was barely
able to support himself, and scarcely possessed a presentable suit of
clothes, was to their minds the most inconsequent of trifles. It was
unfortunate, perhaps, but unavoidable; and their sublime trust in the
luck which was to ripen in all of them at some indefinite future time,
was their hope in this case. Some time or other he would "get into
something," they had decided, and then he would marry Dolly, and they
would all enjoy the attendant festivities. And in the mean time they
allowed the two to be happy, and made Griffith welcome, inviting him to
their little impromptu suppers, and taking care never to be _de trop_ on
the occasion of _tete-a-tete_ conversations.

The _tete-a-tete_ of the morning ended happily as usual. Dolly went back
to her unpicking, and Griffith, finding his ghost of self-reproach laid
for the time being, watched her in a supremely blissful state of mind.
He never tired of watching her, he frequently told her in enthusiastic
confidence. The charm in Dolly Crewe was her adaptability; she was
never out of place, and it had been said that she suited herself to her
accompaniments far oftener than her accompaniments suited themselves
to her. Seeing her in a shabby dress, seated in the shabby parlor, one