for two hours; but that would fail him when there should be hail, or fierce sunshine, or frost, or snow, or rain.  Eating and drinking would be much to him; but he could not but look forward to self-reproach if eating and drinking were to be the joy of his life.  Then he thought of Dolly’s life,—­how much purer and better and nobler it had been than his own.  She talked in a slighting, careless tone of her usual day’s work, but how much of her time had been occupied in doing the tasks of others?  He knew well that she disliked the Carrolls.  She would speak of her own dislike of them as of her great sin, of which it was necessary that she should repent in sackcloth and ashes.

But yet how she worked for the family! turning old dresses into new frocks, as though the girls who had worn them, and the children who were to wear them, had been to her her dearest friends.  Every day she went across to the house intent upon doing good offices; and this was the repentance in sackcloth and ashes which she exacted from herself.  Could not he do as she did?  He could not darn Minnie’s and Brenda’s stockings, but he might do something to make those children more worthy of their cousin’s care.  He could not associate with his brother-in-law, because he was sure that Mr. Carroll would not endure his society; but he might labor to do something for the reform even of this abominable man.  Before Dolly had come back to him he had resolved that he could only redeem his life from the stagnation with which it was threatened by working for others, now that the work of his own life had come to a close.  “Well, Dolly,” he said, as soon as she had entered the room, “have you heard any thing more about Mr. Juniper?”

“Have you been here ever since, papa?”

“Yes, indeed; I used to sit at chambers for six or seven hours at a stretch, almost without getting out of my chair.”

“And are you still employed about those awful papers?”

“I have not looked at them since you left the room.”

“Then you must have been asleep.”

“No, indeed; I have not been asleep.  You left me too much to think of to enable me to sleep.  What am I to do with myself besides eating and drinking, so that I shall not sleep always on this side of the grave?”

“There are twenty things, papa,—­thirty, fifty, for a man so minded as you are.”  This she said trying to comfort him.

“I must endeavor to find one or two of the fifty.”  Then he went back to his papers, and really worked hard on that day.

On the following morning, early, he went across to Bolsover Terrace, to begin his task of reproving the Carroll family, without saying a word to Dolly indicative of his purpose.