"I thought my pride was down," he said in a low voice? "but I see it might be lowered yet further. Mr Marshall, I will try to humble myself even to that, if it be needful." Aubrey did not suspect that Mr Marshall had never come so near respecting him as at that moment. "Well," he said, quietly, "I will do what I can to help you. I will see Tom Rookwood; and I know a bookseller in Oxford town to whom I could speak for you if you wish it. The question for you at this moment is not, What is easy and pleasant?--but, What is right? `_Facilis descensus Averni_'--you know--`_sed revocare gradum_!' It is always hard work turning back. There is a bitter cup to be drunk; and if you would win back your lost self-respect--if you would bring help and comfort to your grandmother in her old age--if you would light up the lamp of joy where hitherto you have wrought darkness--nay, if you would win a smile from the blessed lips which said `Father, forgive them' _for you_--then, Aubrey Louvaine, be a man, and drink off that bitter draught. You will find it sweeter afterwards than all the dainties you have been searching after for so long." Aubrey sat still and silent for some time, and his companion let him alone to consider his ways. Mr Marshall was a wise man; and never gave more strokes to a nail than were needful to drive it in. At last the question came, in low, unsteady tones-- "Mr Marshall, did God send you up this road this afternoon?" "I have no doubt He did, my friend, if anything I say or do can help you to the right way. You see, I knew not of your being here, and He did." "When you came up," said the low voice, "I thought all was over, and my mind was very near made up to enlist as a common soldier, and leave no trace behind. I see now, it should have been an ill deed to do." "An ill deed in truth for your poor friends, if the only news they had ever heard of you were your name in a list of the dead." "Yes, I wished to be killed as soon as might be--get to the end as fast as possible." "Would that have been the end, Aubrey?" The reply was barely audible. "No, I suppose not." "Take up your burden instead, my son, and bear it by God's grace. He does not refuse that, even when the burden is heaped and bound by our own hands. Unlike men, His compassion faileth never. He has maybe emptied thine heart, Aubrey, that He may fill it with Himself." Aubrey made no reply, but Mr Marshall did not think that a bad sign.