erception; and now when she looked steadily
at her husband's failure, still more at his possible consciousness of
failure, she seemed to be looking along the one track where duty became
tenderness. Will's want of reticence might have been met with more
severity, if he had not already been recommended to her mercy by her
husband's dislike, which must seem hard to her till she saw better
reason for it.

She did not answer at once, but after looking down ruminatingly she
said, with some earnestness, "Mr. Casaubon must have overcome his
dislike of you so far as his actions were concerned: and that is
admirable."

"Yes; he has shown a sense of justice in family matters. It was an
abominable thing that my grandmother should have been disinherited
because she made what they called a mesalliance, though there was
nothing to be said against her husband except that he was a Polish
refugee who gave lessons for his bread."

"I wish I knew all about her!" said Dorothea. "I wonder how she bore
the change from wealth to poverty: I wonder whether she was happy with
her husband! Do you know much about them?"

"No; only that my grandfather was a patriot--a bright fellow--could
speak many languages--musical--got his bread by teaching all sorts of
things. They both died rather early. And I never knew much of my
father, beyond what my mother told me; but he inherited the musical
talents. I remember his slow walk and his long thin hands; and one day
remains with me when he was lying ill, and I was very hungry, and had
only a little bit of bread."

"Ah, what a different life from mine!" said Dorothea, with keen
interest, clasping her hands on her lap. "I have always had too much
of everything. But tell me how it was--Mr. Casaubon could not have
known about you then."

"No; but my father had made himself known to Mr. Casaubon, and that was
my last hungry day. My father died soon after, and my mother and I
were well taken care of. Mr. Casaubon always expressly recognized it
as his duty to take care of us because of the harsh injustice which had
been shown to his mother's sister. But now I am telling you what is
not new to you."

In his inmost soul Will was conscious of wishing to tell Dorothea what
was rather new even in his own construction of things--namely, that
Mr. Casaubon had never done more than pay a debt towards him. Will was
much too good a fellow to be easy under the sense of being ungrateful.
And when gratitud