‘As poor as Job, and as proud as Lucifer,’ retorted the Vicar, without lifting his eyes from a volume of his favourite Bishop Berkeley. It was the Vicar’s way in these _tête-à-tête_ conversations by the domestic hearth. He read, and his wife talked to him. He could keep his attention on the most intricate chain of argument, and yet never answer Mrs. Dulcimer’s speculative assertions or vague questionings away from the purpose. This was the happy result of long habit. The Vicar loved his books, and his wife loved the exercise of her tongue. His morning hours were sacred. He studied or read as he pleased till dinner-time, secure from feminine interruption. But the evening was a privileged tim…
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