t thyself, good
friend,--my worldly name is James Westrop. And I will tell thee what
thou askest not, that my errand hither is to this young man, Andrew
Golding. I have now told him my message, so I am free to depart; and if
thou likest not of my talk or my ways, I refuse not to leave thy house
and protection this hour.'

'But I will not have you go,' said she, 'till you are refreshed and
rested. And, in good time, here comes the Vicar, whom I have desired to
sup with us and to reason with you. You will not refuse his company? He
scorns not yours.'

'I will not refuse it,' said Westrop gravely; and Mr. Truelocke coming
in at that moment with Harry, we all went presently to table.

I marvelled greatly during the meal at Mr. Truelocke's courtesy, so
kindly did he speak to the Quaker; and he strove to excuse to him the
mad behaviour of the people, ascribing it to their regard for their
ancient pastor, now about to leave them. 'I pray you,' he said, 'to
pardon them for my sake.'

'Friend,' said James Westrop, 'I had pardoned them before they offended.
But thou art deceived if thou thinkest it was love to thee which moved
them. They could not endure my word, because their own spirits were
foul. My word was to them as the shining of a candle into a dark, dirty
place, and the sight of their foulness made them mad against me. But in
thee I perceive purity of intention; and I will gladly reason with thee
of the things of the Spirit, according to this good woman's desire.'

So after supper Aunt Golding showed the Quaker and Mr. Truelocke into a
parlour, and herself with Andrew went in to hear their reasonings; but
Althea whispered me, and said, 'Let us go and walk in the garden; I
cannot stay and hear the man's insolent talk.' So we stepped out, and
began to pace up and down one of the walks, the moon being just risen,
and the evening very sweet and calm--a pleasant change it was after the
heats and storms of that afternoon's work. Presently Harry joined us,
and said at once, 'Well, sweet ladies, so you have no mind to turn
Quakers?'

'As soon shall this rose turn nettle,' said Althea, plucking a white
rose off a bush and giving it to him. 'Keep it, I pray you; and when you
find it will sting you to touch it, then conclude Althea Dacre has
turned Quaker.'

'Give me your rose too, Mistress Lucia,' said Harry.

So I gathered one, and put it in his hand; but I felt obliged to say,--

'I cannot speak so confidently as my s