ey suspects you of, even in his own heart.
The only way to convince him of his error, is to show him by your
future course how much such an act would be beneath you."

"Oh, there's no use, Guly; I never could convince such a flint-hearted
man in the world, of my innocence, if he chose to think me guilty. I was
horrified at first, but I've thought of it, and thought of it, till I
don't care much. It's my fate, I suppose."

"Don't give up in this way, Arthur; think of your own proud self, of how
much depends upon you, of our dear mother, and all that. Don't allow
yourself to be crushed."

"Guly, just think of it--a _thief_!"

"Only so in the opinion of one who will not reflect upon it long enough
to see its utter impossibility."

"And all this year's labor lost, Guly; and nothing to send home now to
mother."

"We'll try what we can do with _my_ salary, Arthur."

"Pooh! the whole of it just covers the amount lost; and how are you
going to live?"

"Don't give it up so, don't! There is One who will never desert those
who trust Him. Remember that, Arthur, and look up."

"It is my fate to be forced to look down. It is useless for me to try to
struggle against it. I can't be otherwise."

"You are too desponding, Arthur; many a man, now rich and happy, if he
could tell his experience in getting so, would no doubt relate a harder
life than yours can ever be. This should only serve to make you
stronger."

"If Mr. Delancey was only a different-tempered man, perhaps I could do
better. If he had sympathized with me, and assured me kindly of his
belief that it was all an accident, oh, I would have felt so
differently, so happy in comparison! There is no pleasure in serving
such a man; it is only rigid duty, rigidly performed, for one you cannot
but hate. He is never so happy as when mixing gall with the honey of
one's happiness. I am miserable, Guly, miserable! and I can't rouse
myself. I wish I was as meek and forbearing as you are, I could be
happier; my pride, my strong unbending pride, has been, and ever will
be, my curse."

Arthur's tones seemed to struggle up so heavily in his sorrow, from his
heart's depths, that Guly felt strongly inclined to tell him there were
very few, however meek and charitable, who would submit to an insult of
this kind quietly; but he remembered his promise to Wilkins, and
refrained.

"If I could reason with Mr. Delancey, if he would talk with me as it is
his duty to talk with me, I am