he importance of these arrangements, and
you know what a good girl she is.'

The brother only sighed again, as he plodded dreamily along, 'Hah! Yes,
yes, yes, yes.'

'My dear fellow,' said the Father of the Marshalsea, laying his hand
upon his shoulder, and mildly rallying him--mildly, because of his
weakness, poor dear soul; 'you said that before, and it does not express
much, Frederick, even if it means much. I wish I could rouse you, my
good Frederick; you want to be roused.'

'Yes, William, yes. No doubt,' returned the other, lifting his dim eyes
to his face. 'But I am not like you.'

The Father of the Marshalsea said, with a shrug of modest
self-depreciation, 'Oh! You might be like me, my dear Frederick;
you might be, if you chose!' and forbore, in the magnanimity of his
strength, to press his fallen brother further.

There was a great deal of leave-taking going on in corners, as was usual
on Sunday nights; and here and there in the dark, some poor woman, wife
or mother, was weeping with a new Collegian. The time had been when the
Father himself had wept, in the shades of that yard, as his own
poor wife had wept. But it was many years ago; and now he was like
a passenger aboard ship in a long voyage, who has recovered from
sea-sickness, and is impatient of that weakness in the fresher
passengers taken aboard at the last port. He was inclined to
remonstrate, and to express his opinion that people who couldn't get on
without crying, had no business there. In manner, if not in words, he
always testified his displeasure at these interruptions of the general
harmony; and it was so well understood, that delinquents usually
withdrew if they were aware of him.

On this Sunday evening, he accompanied his brother to the gate with an
air of endurance and clemency; being in a bland temper and graciously
disposed to overlook the tears. In the flaring gaslight of the Lodge,
several Collegians were basking; some taking leave of visitors, and
some who had no visitors, watching the frequent turning of the key, and
conversing with one another and with Mr Chivery. The paternal entrance
made a sensation of course; and Mr Chivery, touching his hat (in a short
manner though) with his key, hoped he found himself tolerable.

'Thank you, Chivery, quite well. And you?'

Mr Chivery said in a low growl, 'Oh! he was all right.' Which was his
general way of acknowledging inquiries after his health when a little
sullen.

'I had a vis