gerows were in full flower. There were thrushes
singing, and here and there an oak-tree stood in the roadside,
perfect in its solitary beauty.

"Let us walk on a little," said the dean. "Miss Robarts is with her
now, and you will be better for leaving the room for a few minutes."

"No," said he; "I must go back; I cannot leave that young lady to do
my work."

"Stop, Crawley!" And the dean, putting his hand upon him, stayed him
in the road. "She is doing her own work, and if you were speaking of
her with reference to any other household than your own, you would
say so. Is it not a comfort to you to know that your wife has a woman
near her at such a time as this; and a woman, too, who can speak to
her as one lady does to another?"

"These are comforts which we have no right to expect. I could not
have done much for poor Mary; but what a man could have done should
not have been wanting."

"I am sure of it; I know it well. What any man could do by himself
you would do--excepting one thing." And the dean as he spoke looked
full into the other's face.

"And what is there I would not do?" said Crawley.

"Sacrifice your own pride."

"My pride?"

"Yes; your own pride."

"I have had but little pride this many a day. Arabin, you do not know
what my life has been. How is a man to be proud who--" And then he
stopped himself, not wishing to go through the catalogue of those
grievances, which, as he thought, had killed the very germs of pride
within him, or to insist by spoken words on his poverty, his wants,
and the injustice of his position. "No; I wish I could be proud; but
the world has been too heavy to me, and I have forgotten all that."

"How long have I known you, Crawley?"

"How long? Ah dear! a lifetime nearly, now."

"And we were like brothers once."

"Yes; we were equal as brothers then--in our fortunes, our tastes,
and our modes of life."

"And yet you would begrudge me the pleasure of putting my hand in my
pocket, and relieving the inconveniences which have been thrown on
you, and those you love better than yourself, by the chances of your
fate in life."

"I will live on no man's charity," said Crawley, with an abruptness
which amounted almost to an expression of anger.

"And is not that pride?"

"No--yes;--it is a species of pride, but not that pride of which
you spoke. A man cannot be honest if he have not some pride. You
yourself; would you not rather starve than become a beggar?"

"I would