of the super-mundane conflict, and the victim of it that he was.

In Lobourne Austin Wentworth had the reputation of the poor man's friend;
a title he earned more largely ere he went to the reward God alone can
give to that supreme virtue. Dame Bakewell, the mother of Tom, on
hearing of her son's arrest, had run to comfort him and render him what
help she could; but this was only sighs and tears, and, oh deary me!
which only perplexed poor Tom, who bade her leave an unlucky chap to his
fate, and not make himself a thundering villain. Whereat the dame begged
him to take heart, and he should have a true comforter. "And though it's
a gentleman that's coming to you, Tom--for he never refuses a poor
body," said Mrs. Bakewell, "it's a true Christian, Tom! and the Lord
knows if the sight of him mayn't be the saving of you, for he's light to
look on, and a sermon to listen to, he is!"

Tom was not prepossessed by the prospect of a sermon, and looked a sullen
dog enough when Austin entered his cell. He was surprised at the end of
half-an-hour to find himself engaged in man-to-man conversation with a
gentleman and a Christian. When Austin rose to go Tom begged permission
to shake his hand.

"Take and tell young master up at the Abbey that I an't the chap to
peach. He'll know. He's a young gentleman as'll make any man do as he
wants 'em! He's a mortal wild young gentleman! And I'm a Ass! That's
where 'tis. But I an't a blackguard. Tell him that, sir!"

This was how it came that Austin eyed young Richard seriously while he
told the news at Raynham. The boy was shy of Austin more than of Adrian.
Why, he did not know; but he made it a hard task for Austin to catch him
alone, and turned sulky that instant. Austin was not clever like Adrian: