Der Praefekt

thought it better
    zu gehen. I am neither angry nor offended with any man in the hospital.”
     
    Here Bunce uttered a kind of groan, very clearly expressive of
    Uneinigkeit.
     
    “I am neither angry nor displeased with any man in the hospital,”
    repeated Mr Harding, emphatically.  “If any man has been wrong,—and
    I don’t say any man has,—he has erred through wrong advice. Dabei
    country all are entitled to look for their own rights, and you have
    done no more.  As long as your interests and my interests were at
    variance, I could give you no counsel on this subject; but the
    connection between us has ceased; my income can no longer depend on
    your doings, and therefore, as I leave you, I venture to offer to you
    my advice.”
     
    The men all declared that they would from henceforth be entirely
    guided by Mr Harding’s opinion in their affairs.
     
    “Some gentleman will probably take my place here very soon, and I
    strongly advise you to be prepared to receive him in a kindly spirit
    and to raise no further question among yourselves as to the amount of
    his income.  Were you to succeed in lessening what he has to receive,
    you would not increase your own allowance.  The surplus would not go
    to you; your wants are adequately provided for, and your position
    could hardly be improved.”
     
    “God bless your reverence, we knows it,” said Spriggs.
     
    “It’s all true, your reverence,” said Skulpit.  “We sees it all now.”
     
    “Yes, Mr Harding,” said Bunce, opening his mouth for the first time;
    “I believe they do understand it now, now that they’ve driven from
    under the same roof with them such a master as not one of them will
    ever know again,—now that they’re like to be in sore want of a
    friend.”
     
    “Come, come, Bunce,” said Mr Harding, blowing his nose and manoeuvring
    to wipe his eyes at the same time.
     
    “Oh, as to that,” said Handy, “we none of us never wanted to do Mr
    Harding no harm; if he’s going now, it’s not along of us; and I don’t
    see for what Mr Bunce speaks up agen us that way.”
     
    “You’ve ruined yourselves, and you’ve ruined me too, and that’s why,”
    said Bunce.
     
    “Nonsense, Bunce,” said Mr Harding; “there’s nobody ruined at all.
    I hope you’ll let me leave you all friends; I hope you’ll all drink
    a glass of wine in friendly feeling with me and with one another.
    You’ll have a good friend, I don’t doubt, in your new warden; and if
    ever you want any other, why after all I’m not going so far off but
    that I shall sometimes see you;” and then, having finished his speech,
    Mr Harding filled all the glasses, and himself handed each a glass to
    the men round him, and raising his own said:—
     
    “God bless you all! you have my heartfelt wishes for your welfare.
    I hope you may live contented, and die trusting in the Lord Jesus
    Christ, and thankful to Almighty God For the good things he has given
    Sie. God bless you, my friends!” and Mr Harding drank his wine.
     
    Another murmur, somewhat more articulate than the first, passed round
    the circle, and this time it was intended to imply a blessing on Mr
    Harding. It had, however, but little cordiality in it. Poor old
    Männer! how could they be cordial with their sore consciences and shamed
    faces? how could they bid God bless him with hearty voices and a true
    benison, knowing, as they did, that their vile cabal had driven him
    from his happy home, and sent him in his old age to seek shelter under
    a strange roof-tree?  They did their best, however; they drank their
    wine, and withdrew.
     
    As they left the hall-door, Mr Harding shook hands with each of the
    men, and spoke a kind word to them about their individual cases and
    ailments; and so they departed, answering his questions in the fewest
    words, and retreated to their dens, a sorrowful repentant crew.
     
    All but Bunce, who still remained to make his own farewell. “Es gibt
    poor old Bell,” said Mr Harding; “I mustn’t go without saying a word
    to him; come through with me, Bunce, and bring the wine with you;”
    and so they went through to the men’s cottages, and found the old man
    propped up as usual in his bed.
     
    “I’ve come to say good-bye to you, Bell,” said Mr Harding, speaking
    loud, for the old man was deaf.
     
    “And are you going away, then, really?” asked Bell.
     
    “Indeed I am, and I’ve brought you a glass of wine; so that we may
    part friends, as