he had made it the only one eligible for me.  How ill I behaved—­how obstinately I set myself against all mediation—­how I wrapped myself in self-approval—­you know better than I do.  My conceit, and absurdity, and thanklessness, have risen up before me; and I remember offers that would have involved no sacrifice of my clerical obligations—­offers that I would not even consider—­classing them all as ‘mere truckling with my conscience.’  What did I take for a conscience?

’Ever since, things have gone from bad to worse, grieving my dear grandmother’s last year, and estranging me from my poor little sister because she would not follow my dictation.  At last my sins brought down the penalty, and I would not grieve except for the innocent who suffer with me.  Perhaps, but for them, I should never have felt it.  Nor do I feel tempted to murmur; for there is a strange peace with us throughout, in spite of a sad heart and too many explosions of my miserable temper, and the sight of the hardships so bravely met by my dear wife.  But for all this, I should never have known what she is!  She whispered to me last evening, when she saw me looking tired and depressed, that she had no fears for the future, for this had been the happiest year of her life.  Nothing can make her forget to soothe me!

’I have written a long rigmarole all about myself; but an outpouring is sometimes a relief, and you have borne with me often enough to do so now.  My poor Clara’s pardon, and some kind of clerical duty, are my chief wishes; but my failures in the early part of the year have taught me how unworthy I am to stir a step in soliciting anything of the kind.  Did I tell you how some ten of the boys continue to touch their hats to me? and Smith, the butcher’s son, often comes to borrow a book, and consult me on some of the difficulties that his father throws in his way.  He is a fine fellow, and at least I hope that my two years at the school did him no harm.  I was much impressed with the orderliness at Ormersfield Sunday-school.  I wish I could have got half as much religious knowledge into my poor boys.  I walked through your turnips in the South field, and thought they wanted rain.  Frampton tells me the Inglewood harvest is in very good condition; but I will see the bailiff, and give you more particulars, when I can be better spared from home for a few hours.  Kitty’s assistance in writing has discomposed these last few lines.

’Yours ever,
‘J.R.F.D.’

Clara turned away and groaned aloud several times as she read; but all she said, as she gave it back to Louis, was, ’What is to be done?  You must talk to my uncle.’

’Ah, Clara! young gentlemen of the nineteenth century make but a bad hand of the part of benevolent fairy.’

‘I don’t think my speaking would be of any use,’ said Clara.  ’Oh, if this only would have been a boy!’

Lord Ormersfield undertook to sound Mr. Dynevor, and found an early opportunity of asking whether he had heard of poor James’s misfortune.  Yes, he had known it long ago.  No wonder, with such a temper.  Kept it from the child, though.  Would not have her always hankering after them.