in his eye before he spoke which told me at once what was
coming. It's odd a man of such self-command as he should not better hide
his feelings; but I have always been able to see what Jennings was
thinking about."

"Depend on it," said his sister, "you will think nothing of it whatever
this time next year. It will be like a summer-cloud, come and gone."

"And then it damps me, and interrupts me in my reading. I fall back
thinking of it, and cannot give my mind to my books, or exert myself. It
is very hard."

Mary sighed; "I wish I could help you," she said; "but women can do so
little. Come, let me take the fretting, and you the reading; that'll be
a fair division."

"And then my dear mother too," he continued; "what will she think of it
when it comes to her ears? and come it must."

"Nonsense," said Mary, "don't make a mountain of a mole-hill. You will
go back, take your degree, and nobody will be the wiser."

"No, it can't be so," said Charles seriously.

"What do you mean?" asked Mary.

"These things don't clear off in that way," said he; "it is no
summer-cloud; it may turn to rain, for what they know."

Mary looked at him with some surprise.

"I mean," he said, "that I have no confidence that they will let me take
my degree, any more than let me reside there."

"That is very absurd," said she; "it's what I meant by brooding over
things, and making mountains of mole-hills."

"My sweet Mary," he said, affectionately taking her hand, "my only real
confidant and comfort, I would tell you something more, if you could
bear it."

Mary was frightened, and her heart beat. "Charles," she said,
withdrawing her hand, "any pain is less than to see you thus. I see too
clearly that something is on your mind."

Charles put his feet on the fender, and looked down.

"I _can't_ tell you," he said, at length, with vehemence; then, seeing
by her face how much he was distressing her, he said, half-laughing, as
if to turn the edge of his words, "My dear Mary, when people bear
witness against one, one can't help fearing that there is, perhaps,
something to bear witness against."

"Impossible, Charles! _you_ corrupt other people! _you_ falsify the
Prayer Book and Articles! impossible!"

"Mary, which do you think would be the best judge whether my face was
dirty and my coat shabby, you or I? Well, then, perhaps Jennings, or at
least common report, knows more about me than I do myself."

"You must not speak in this way