Shirley

reside in Briarfield, for the convenience of being near Hollow's mill, where he had obtained work) entered the cottage, and, having greeted the goodwife and the children, sat down. He proceeded to talk very cheerfully about the length of time that had elapsed since the family quitted his parish, the changes which had occurred since; he answered questions touching his sister Margaret, who was inquired after with much interest; he asked questions in his turn, and at last, glancing hastily and anxiously round through his spectacles (he wore spectacles, for he was short-sighted) at the bare room, and at the meagre and wan faces of the circle about him – for the children had come round his knee, and the father and mother stood before him – he said, abruptly, –
    »And how are you all? How do you get on?«
    Mr. Hall, be it remarked, though an accomplished scholar, not only spoke with a strong northern accent, but, on occasion, used freely north-country expressions.
    »We get on poorly,« said William: »we're all out of work. I've selled most o' t' household stuff, as ye may see; and what we're to do next, God knows.«
    »Has Mr. Moore turned you off?«
    »He has turned us off; and I've sich an opinion of him now, that I think, if he'd tak' me on again to-morrow, I wouldn't work for him.«
    »It is not like you to say so, William.«
    »I know it is n't; but I'm getting different to mysel': I feel I am changing. I wad n't heed, if t' bairns and t' wife had enough to live on; but they're pinched – they're pined –«
    »Well, my lad, and so are you; I see you are. These are grievous times; I see suffering wherever I turn. William, sit down; Grace, sit down; let us talk it over.«
    And in order the better to talk it over, Mr. Hall lifted the least of the children on to his knee, and placed his hand on the head of the next least; but when the small things began to chatter to him, he bid them »Whisht!« and, fixing his eyes on the grate, he regarded the handful of embers which burnt there very gravely.
    »Sad times!« he said, »and they last long. It is the will of God: His will be done! but He tries us to the utmost.«
    Again he reflected.
    »You've no money, William, and you've nothing you could sell to raise a small sum?«
    »No; I've selled t' chest o' drawers, and t' clock, and t' bit of a mahogany stand, and t' wife's bonny tea-tray and set o' cheeney 'at she brought for a portion when we were wed.«
    »And if somebody lent you a pound or two, could you make any good use of it? Could you get into a new way of doing something?«
    Farren did not answer; but his wife said quickly, »Ay, I'm sure he could, sir; he's a very contriving chap, is our William. If he'd two or three pounds, he could begin selling stuff.«
    »Could you, William?«
    »Please God,« returned William, deliberately, »I could buy groceries, and bits o' tapes, and thread, and what I thought would sell, and I could begin hawking at first.«
    »And you know, sir,« interposed Grace, »you're sure William would neither drink, nor idle, nor waste in any way. He's my husband, and I should n't praise him; but I
will
say, there's not a soberer, honester man i' England nor he is.«
    »Well, I'll speak to one or two friends, and I think I can promise to let him have £ 5 in a day or two: as a loan, ye mind, not a gift: he must pay it back.«
    »I understand, sir: I'm quite agreeable to that.«
    »Meantime, there's a few shillings for you, Grace, just to keep the pot boiling till custom comes. Now, bairns, stand up in a row and say your catechism, while your mother goes and buys some dinner: for you've not had much to-day, I'll be bound. You begin, Ben. What is your name?«
    Mr. Hall stayed till Grace came back; then he hastily took his leave, shaking hands with both Farren and his wife: just at the door, he said to them a few brief but very earnest words of religious consolation and exhortation: with a mutual »God bless you, sir!« »God bless you, my friends!« they separated.
     

 
Chapter IX
Briarmains
    Messrs Helstone and Sykes began to be extremely jocose etcongratulatory with Mr. Moore when he returned to them after dismissing the deputation; he was so quiet, however, under their compliments upon his firmness, etc., and wore a countenance so like a still, dark day, equally beamless and breezeless, that the Rector, after glancing shrewdly into his eyes, buttoned up his felicitations with his coat, and said to Sykes, whose senses were not acute