he Lord
in prayer, for his friend, for himself, for the whole world.

And you, too, if ever you are tried as he was--as every man must
be in one way or another--must learn to do the like with every
burthen on your soul, if you would not have it hanging round you
heavily, and ever more heavily, and dragging you down lower and
lower till your dying day.

CHAPTER XVI

THE STORM RAGES

Hardy was early in the chapel the next morning. It was his week
for pricking in. Every man who entered--from the early men who
strolled in quietly while the bell was still ringing, to the
hurrying, half-dressed loiterers who crushed in as the porter was
closing the doors, and disturbed the congregation in the middle
of the confession--gave him a turn (as the expressive phrase is),
and every turn only ended in disappointment. He put by his list
at last, when the doors were fairly shut, with a sigh. He had
half expected to see Tom come into morning chapel with a face
from which he might have gathered hope that his friend had taken
the right path. But Tom did not come at all, and Hardy felt it
was a bad sign.

They did not meet till the evening, at the river, when the boat
went down for a steady pull, and then Hardy saw at once that all
was going wrong. Neither spoke to or looked at the other. Hardy
expected some one to remark it, but nobody did. After the pull
they walked up, and Tom as usual led the way, as if nothing had
happened, into "The Choughs." Hardy paused for a moment, and then
went in too, and stayed till the rest of the crew left. Tom
deliberately stayed after them all. Hardy turned for a moment as
he was leaving the bar, and saw him settling himself down in his
chair with an air of defiance, meant evidently for him, which
would have made most men angry. He was irritated for a moment,
and then was filled with ruth for the poor wrong-headed youngster
who was heaping up coals of fire for his own head. In his
momentary anger Hardy said to himself, "Well, I have done what I
can; now he must go his own way;" but such a thought was soon
kicked in disgrace from his noble and well-disciplined mind. He
resolved, that, let it cost what it might in the shape of loss of
time and trial of temper, he would leave no stone unturned, and
spare no pains, to deliver his friend of yesterday from the
slough into which he was plunging. How he might best work for
this end occupied his thoughts as he walked towards college.

Tom sat on at "T