’No, not fling them away lightly, but we are permitted to lay down our lives in a right cause.  There are many duties, as you know, Mr. Jerome, which stand before taking care of our own lives.’

‘Ah!  I can’t arguy wi’ you, Mr. Tryan; but what I wanted to say’s this—­There’s my little chacenut hoss; I should take it quite a kindness if you’d hev him through the winter an’ ride him.  I’ve thought o’ sellin’ him a many times, for Mrs. Jerome can’t abide him; and what do I want wi’ two nags?  But I’m fond o’ the little chacenut, an’ I shouldn’t like to sell him.  So if you’ll only ride him for me, you’ll do me a kindness—­you will, indeed, Mr. Tryan.’

’Thank you, Mr. Jerome.  I promise you to ask for him, when I feel that I want a nag.  There is no man I would more gladly be indebted to than you; but at present I would rather not have a horse.  I should ride him very little, and it would be an inconvenience to me to keep him rather than otherwise.’

Mr. Jerome looked troubled and hesitating, as if he had something on his mind that would not readily shape itself into words.  At last he said, ‘You’ll excuse me, Mr. Tryan, I wouldn’t be takin’ a liberty, but I know what great claims you hev on you as a clergyman.  Is it th’ expense, Mr. Tryan? is it the money?’

’No, my dear sir.  I have much more than a single man needs.  My way of living is quite of my own choosing, and I am doing nothing but what I feel bound to do, quite apart from money considerations.  We cannot judge for one another, you know; we have each our peculiar weaknesses and temptations.  I quite admit that it might be right for another man to allow himself more luxuries, and I assure you I think it no superiority in myself to do without them.  On the contrary, if my heart were less rebellious, and if I were less liable to temptation, I should not need that sort of self-denial.  But,’ added Mr. Tryan, holding out his hand to Mr. Jerome, ’I understand your kindness, and bless you for it.  If I want a horse, I shall ask for the chesnut.’

Mr. Jerome was obliged to rest contented with this promise, and rode home sorrowfully, reproaching himself with not having said one thing he meant to say when setting out, and with having ‘clean forgot’ the arguments he had intended to quote from Mr. Stickney.

Mr. Jerome’s was not the only mind that was seriously disturbed by the idea that the curate was over-working himself.  There were tender women’s hearts in which anxiety about the state of his affections was beginning to be merged in anxiety about the state of his health.  Miss Eliza Pratt had at one time passed through much sleepless cogitation on the possibility of Mr. Tryan’s being attached to some lady at a distance—­at Laxeter, perhaps, where he had formerly held a curacy; and her fine eyes kept close watch lest any symptom of engaged affections on his part should escape her.  It seemed an alarming fact that his handkerchiefs were beautifully marked