t, "I would as lief be a nun, and live
shut up between four stone walls, as be subjected to such restraints! My
father is the worshipful bailiff of this town, but he never stands in
the way of a little harmless pleasure."

"Very true, Margaret; but my father, being a minister of the Gospel,
understands these things better, you know."

"What! better than a magistrate? the chief magistrate of the borough and
corporation of Southwold, Bessy Younges? No, no, my dear; you won't
persuade me to that. Your father is a very good kind of man, and has a
deal of book knowledge; but my father says, 'he knows very little of the
world, and is far too stiff in his notions for his congregation,'"
exclaimed Margaret.

"It may be so," observed Elizabeth, "but as I am bound to pay double
attention to my father's advice, both as my parent and my pastor, I beg
to hear no more on the subject."

"As you please, Elizabeth;--but have you seen Arthur yet?"

"Arthur! I thought he was at sea."

"He landed this morning at seven."

"And you not to tell me of it before!"

"I thought you had seen him; but I dare say he has called at the
Vicarage while we have been out walking."

"How very provoking!"

"Never mind; you will have enough of his company to-morrow, if you go to
Dunwich fair with us."

"But I am _not_ going to Dunwich fair!" cried Elizabeth, pettishly; "and
if Arthur Blackbourne goes without me I will never speak to him again."

"And if _you_ do not there are plenty in this town who will be ready to
pull caps for him, I can tell you. There is Joan Bates will be only too
happy to sit by him in the boat, and she says--"

"Something vastly impertinent, I dare say; but I don't want to hear any
of her cross speeches second-hand: I beg you will save yourself the
trouble of repeating them, Margaret. It is getting late, and I must
hasten home."

Time had, indeed, stolen a march on the vicar's fair daughter, while she
had been discussing this interesting subject with her youthful friend
and gossip, the sister of her sailor lover; for the full-orbed moon had
already reared her bright face over the swelling waves, and was pouring
a flood of radiance through the bay, and illuminating the high-arched
windows of All-Saints' church on the distant dark promontory of Dunwich
cat-cliff.

Elizabeth turned resolutely about to pursue a homeward path; but, at the
little turnstile leading to the vicarage, which then with its neat
garden and pad