ence of the exalted Green, the two girls went to
sleep in each other's arms, contented with themselves and the world.

Mrs. Grantly at first sight came to much the same conclusion about
her husband's favourite as her daughters had done, though, in seeking
to measure his relative value, she did not compare him to Mr. Green;
indeed, she made no comparison by name between him and anyone else;
but she remarked to her husband that one person's swans were very
often another person's geese, thereby clearly showing that Mr. Arabin
had not yet proved his qualifications in swanhood to her
satisfaction.

"Well, Susan," said he, rather offended at hearing his friend spoken
of so disrespectfully, "if you take Mr. Arabin for a goose, I cannot
say that I think very highly of your discrimination."

"A goose! No, of course, he's not a goose. I've no doubt he's a very
clever man. But you're so matter-of-fact, Archdeacon, when it suits
your purpose, that one can't trust oneself to any _facon de parler_.
I've no doubt Mr. Arabin is a very valuable man--at Oxford--and that
he'll be a good vicar at St. Ewold. All I mean is that, having passed
one evening with him, I don't find him to be absolutely a paragon. In
the first place, if I am not mistaken, he is a little inclined to be
conceited."

"Of all the men that I know intimately," said the archdeacon, "Arabin
is, in my opinion, the most free from any taint of self-conceit. His
fault is that he's too diffident."

"Perhaps so," said the lady; "only I must own I did not find it out
this evening."

Nothing further was said about him. Dr. Grantly thought that his
wife was abusing Mr. Arabin merely because he had praised him, and
Mrs. Grantly knew that it was useless arguing for or against any
person in favour of or in opposition to whom the archdeacon had
already pronounced a strong opinion.

In truth, they were both right. Mr. Arabin was a diffident man in
social intercourse with those whom he did not intimately know; when
placed in situations which it was his business to fill, and discussing
matters with which it was his duty to be conversant, Mr. Arabin was
from habit brazen-faced enough. When standing on a platform in Exeter
Hall, no man would be less mazed than he by the eyes of the crowd
before him, for such was the work which his profession had called on
him to perform; but he shrank from a strong expression of opinion in
general society, and his doing so not uncommonly made it a