He knew that he was subjecting himself, in the eyes not only of his own family but of all those around him, to suspicions which must be injurious to him, and yet he could not shake off the feeling that depressed him.
But at last he did resolve to make an attempt at doing so.

For some time in the evening he was altogether alone, and he then strove to force his mind to work upon the matter which occupied it,--to arrange his ideas, and bring himself into a state in which he could make a resolution.

For hours he had sat,--not thinking upon this subject, for thought is an exertion which requires a combination of ideas and results in the deducing of conclusions from premises; and no such effort as that had he hitherto made,--but endeavouring to think while he allowed the matter of his grief to lie ever before his mind's eye.
He had said to himself over and over again, that it behoved him to make some great effort to shake off this incubus that depressed him; but yet no such effort had hitherto been even attempted.

Now at last he arose and shook himself, and promised to himself that he would be a man.

It might be that the misfortune under which he groaned was heavy, but let one's sorrow be what it may, there is always a better and a worse way of meeting it.