—An unlessoned Girl, unschool’d, unpractis’d;
    Happy in this she is not yet so old
    But she may learn; and happier than this,
    She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
    Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit
    Commits itself to yours, to be directed.

    Shakspere.

“Robert Walker was less surprised at my history (which it took me a long time to tell) than I had expected him to be.  In fact he knew almost every thing that was going on in his parish, and people often wondered how he came to know so intimately matters concerning themselves, which they had supposed were closely locked up in their own breasts alone.  When I told him of the pestilent doctrines which the stranger was spreading among the miners and others of his flock, he immediately reminded me that he had darkly hinted at this in the sermon which he preached to us before our confirmation; the substance of which I have just related to you.  I thought he would have split his sides with laughing when I told him of the way in which Gawen Braithwaite and I had dispersed the assembly by our sudden and unintentional intrusion into their councils; and tapping me playfully on the cheek, while his eyes ran over with tears of mirth, he said, ‘Take care, my good lad, as long as you live, that you never play the devil in any other character than you did last night!  He is a kittle customer to deal with, and generally has the best of it in the end with those who meddle too much with his concerns.  Resist the devil,’ said he solemnly, ‘resist the devil and he will flee from you—aye,’ he added, smiling once more at the recollection, p. 78quite as fast as silly Willie Tyson and his man Peter!’

“‘And so they ran, did they?’ continued he, for he could not get the amusing notion out of his head, ‘very fast, eh?’

“‘Like rats out of a burning corn-stack,’ said I.

“‘I do wish I had been with you,’ said the old man; ‘I would have set up a halloo that would have rung in Willie’s ears till—till—till he gets Coniston Hall!’ and he laughed once more till his sides shook again.

“His mood, however, was soon changed into sober sadness, when I proceeded to explain to him how the handsome stranger had won the heart of my poor sister Martha, and how deeply and unchangeably I feared her affections were engaged.  Martha was a great favourite with Mr. Walker, as indeed she was with every one who knew her; and he saw at once the difficulty of her situation.  ‘Poor thing!’ said he, with a deep expression of melancholy foreboding on his countenance, ‘what is to become of her!  I know her well: she has not given her heart hastily, nor hastily will she withdraw it.  What a fiend he must be to steal the affections of one so good, so innocent, and so confiding!  Bad men are always selfish; and with all his professions of zeal for the liberty and instruction of mankind, he could not forget his own interests, or restrain his passions.  ’Tis always thus; they who deal with evil on a large scale, are almost sure to indulge in a little private vice on their own account!  Yet why condemn him hastily?  The man that could win the heart of our Martha must have in him something that is plausible at least, if not estimable.  She would not give away her diamonds for Irton pearls. [78]  Who knows but the believing maiden may be even now converting the unbelieving lover?  I will speak to her on the subject, and that before I am a day older.  I think, my young friend, she will not hesitate to confess to me her inmost thoughts?’

p. 79“‘I will answer for that,’ said I; ‘but how is the interview to be brought about?  I shrink from entering upon the subject with her myself, and should be the unwilling bearer of any message which might lead her to suspect that I had in any way played a false part towards her.’

“‘Leave that to me,’ said the old man, ‘I see no difficulty in the matter.’  He turned to his little writing-table, which drew out from beneath his book shelves, (for we were in his little room on the top of the house which he had fitted up for his private study,) and wrote as follows:

    “‘My dear Martha,

    I wish to see you tomorrow on particular business, and at eleven o’clock.  Bring your brother with you as a companion by the way.  Your affectionate Pastor,

    Robert Walker.’

“This note removed every difficulty at once, as far as I was concerned.  I was thus not supposed to have any knowledge whatever of the occasion of this summons, but was merely to be an attendant on my sister’s steps.  Now, sir, it is very remarkable, and I have never since been able to account for it, that though I have generally well remembered (as you have heard) the state of the sky and weather, and the little incidents of the journey, on every other occasion that I have thought of sufficient importance to relate to you, (for such things always make a deep impression on the mind of a mountaineer,) yet, on this occasion—one of the last that I shall ever forget—the whole landscape is to me a perfect blank, and I have not the slightest recollection of any single event that occurred from the moment when poor Martha and I left our father’s door, to that when we stood before the parsonage of Seathwaite, and were welcomed by Robert Walker into his dark and spacious dining-room!  That welcome, and the soft yet somewhat melancholy smile on his countenance, I shall never forget.  As we stood together, looking out from the long low window on the rich landscape before us, we saw the p. 80handsome stranger cross the little foot-bridge that led from the other side of the Duddon to the Parsonage, and make his way directly for the door of the house.  Martha, who was the first to observe him, turned very pale, as if on the point of fainting, and said in an anxious low voice to Mr. Walker, ‘I cannot meet him here!’ and made for the door as if to escape.  The old man laid his hand gently on her arm and said, ‘You are too late to avoid him, but go behind the squab if you wish not to be seen; you will be safe enough there.’

“This squab was a long oaken seat, or settle, with a high wooden back, running from the fire-place half way down the middle of the room.  I dare say such seats (and very uncomfortable they are) are still to be found in most of the old farm-houses in the North.

“The stranger entered as Martha disappeared; and I was very much struck with the ease and grace of his manner.  He wore the look and air of one who was on the best possible terms with himself and all the world.  Much as I felt disposed to dislike him, I could not help admiring both his person and address.  There was an awkwardness and nervous action about Mr. Walker, which I now observed for the first time, that showed to great disadvantage when compared with the stranger’s ease and self-possession.

“After courteously placing a seat for his visitor, Mr. Walker took his accustomed place in his arm-chair in the corner, and then his wonted calmness and dignity at once returned.  The stranger was the first to break the silence.

“‘Well, reverend sir,’ said he, with a bland smile on his face, ‘I am here at your own request.  How you found out my place of abode I am at some loss to discover, and what your particular business may be with me, I can still less conjecture.  I shall doubtless learn both at your convenience.’

“There was nothing in the words of this address to give the slightest offence; yet there was something in the tone in which it was uttered, to excite uncomfortable feelings in my mind, and I saw Mr. Walker slightly p. 81colour, as if he felt somewhat nettled at the manner at least of the address.  Yet the feeling, if such existed, soon passed off; and he resumed his usual calm yet somewhat firm expression of countenance as he said:

“‘The second part of your difficulty, sir, you have a right to have solved, as it shall soon be; with regard to the first it seems less to the purpose.  I ought in the first place to say, that it is simply in my public character as the authorized preacher of the Gospel in this parish, that I have taken what would otherwise seem a great liberty with a perfect stranger, to request an interview with him, without first assigning grounds for the request.  That you have so readily complied with it, I beg to offer you my thanks.’

“I was much struck with the somewhat stately form of language which Mr. Walker in this case assumed—so different from his ordinary discourse with his plain country parishioners.  He took up the tone of the scholar and the gentleman with more ease than I had thought it possible for one whose course of life had been so long removed from the society of his equals.

“‘Sir,’ said the stranger, ‘before you proceed further, allow me to protest against your assumption, that in your public character you have a right to exercise over me any superintendence or control.  I belong not to your flock, I subscribe not to your creed.  Even the tyrannical Church of Rome professes to fetter the minds and torture the limbs of those only who have at some period professed allegiance to her doctrines; and these are not days when the Church of England can safely arrogate to herself a power (however anxiously she may long to do so) which would rouse the dormant spirit even of an Italian slave.’

“‘Pardon me,’ said Mr. Walker, with the utmost calmness; ‘over you I neither claim nor wish to exercise any authority whatever.  But there are those over whose religious condition the laws both of God and man have given me power and authority, and upon them I am bound to exercise it, both for their sakes and my own.  The Church has devised a certain system which she p. 82declares to be founded on Scripture, and propounds it to all her people as their rule of faith and life.  I, having given my full assent and consent to that system, have accepted the office, under her authority, of spreading and propagating that system among those committed by her (under the ............