did not, I must live the closer
now." And so that matter was settled.

In a very few days Arthur found himself going into society with quite
a gay heart. His sisters laughed at him because he would not dance;
but he had now made up his mind for the church, and it would, he
thought, be well for him to begin to look to those amusements which
would be befitting his future sacerdotal life. He practised singing,
therefore, fasted on Fridays, and learnt to make chessmen with a
lathe.

But though his sisters laughed at him, Adela Gauntlet, the daughter
of the neighbouring vicar at West Putford, did not laugh. She so
far approved that by degrees she almost gave over dancing herself.
Waltzes and polkas she utterly abandoned; and though she did
occasionally stand up for a quadrille, she did it in a very
lack-a-daisical way, as though she would have refused that also had
she dared to make herself so peculiar. And thus on the whole Arthur
Wilkinson enjoyed himself that winter, in spite of his blighted
prospects, almost as well as he had on any previous winter that he
remembered.

Now and again, as he walked along the little river bank that ran with
so many turnings from Hurst Staple down to West Putford, he would
think of his past hopes, and lament that he could talk of them to
no one. His father was very good to him; but he was too cold for
sympathy. His mother was all affection, and kindly suggested that,
perhaps, what had happened was for the best: she kindly suggested
this more than once, but her imagination carried her no further. Had
she not four daughters, hitherto without husbands, and also, alas!
without portions? Was it not enough for her to sympathize with them?
As for his sisters--his sisters were well enough--excellent girls;
but they were so gay, so light-hearted, so full of fun and laughter,
that he could not talk to them of his sorrows. They were never
pensive, nor given to that sober sadness which is prone to sympathy.
If, indeed, Adela Gauntlet had been his sister--! And so he walked
along the river to West Putford.

He had now fully made up his mind to go into the church. While yet
thinking of high academical honours, and the brighter paths of
ambition, he also had dreamed of the bar. All young men I believe
do, who have high abilities, a taste for labour, and scanty fortune.
Senior wranglers and double-firsts, when not possessed of means for
political life, usually find their way to the bar. It is on the