"Do you really and truly wish not to fail, as you say, Hugh?" asked
Holt.

"To be sure."

"Well, then, do try not to be cross."

"I am not cross."

"I know you think it is low spirits. I am not quite sure of that: but if
it is, would not it be braver not to be low in spirits?"

Hugh muttered that that was fine talking for people that did not know.

"That is true, I dare say; and I do not believe I should be half as
brave as you, but I _should_ like to see you quite brave."

"It is a pretty thing for you to lecture me, when I got down those books
on purpose for you,--those Voyages and Travels. And how can I look at
those same books, now and not----"

Hugh could not go on, and he turned away his head.

"Was it for me?" exclaimed Holt, in great concern. "Then I am very
sorry. I will carry them to Mrs. Proctor, and ask her to put them quite
away till we are gone back to Crofton."

"No, no. Don't do that. I want them," said Hugh, finding now that he had
not fetched them down entirely on Holt's account. But Holt took him at
his word, and carried the books away, and succeeded in persuading Hugh
that it was better not to look at volumes which he really almost knew by
heart, and every crease, stain and dog's-ear of which brought up fresh
in his mind his old visions of foreign travel and adventure. Then, Holt
never encouraged any conversation about the accident with Susan, or with
Mr. Blake, when they were in the shop; and he never pretended to see
that Hugh's lameness was any reason why he should have the best of their
places in the Haymarket Theatre (where they went once), or be the chief
person when they capped verses, or played other games round the table,
in the evenings at home. The next time Hugh was in his right mood, he
was sure to feel obliged to Holt; and he sometimes said so.

"I consider you a real friend to Hugh," said Mrs. Proctor, one day, when
they three were together. "I have dreaded seeing my boy capable only of
a short effort of courage;--bearing pain of body and mind well while
everybody was sorry for him, and ready to praise him; and then failing
in the long trial afterwards. When other people are leaving off being
sorry for him, you continue your concern for him, and still remind him
not to fail."

"Would not it be a pity, ma'am," said Holt, earnestly, "would it not be
a pity for him to fail when he bore everything so well at first, and
when he helped me so that I don't know what I should hav