I may return, and leave not my flock without their
shepherd. Speak, maiden."

"I will, sir, if you will get up," replied Mary, who paused, and then
continued. "I think, sir, that I am young and foolish, and you are old
and--and--"

"Foolish, thou wouldst say."

"I had rather you said it, sir, than I; it is not for me to use such an
expression towards one so learned as you are. I think, sir, that I am
too young to marry; and that perhaps you are--too old. I think, sir,
that you are too clever--and that I am very ignorant; that it would not
suit you in your situation to marry; and that it would not suit me to
marry you--equally obliged to you all the same."

"Perhaps thou hast in thy reply proved the wiser of the two," answered
the Dominie; "but why, maiden, didst thou raise those feelings, those
hopes in my breast, only to cause me pain, and make me drink deep of the
cup of disappointment? didst thou appear to cling to me in fondness, if
thou felt not a yearning towards me?"

"But are there no other sorts of love besides the one you would require,
sir? May I not love you because you are so clever, and so learned in
Latin. May I not love you as I do my father?"

"True, true, child; it is all my own folly, and I must retrace my steps
in sorrow. I have been deceived--but I have been deceived only by
myself. My wishes have clouded my understanding, and have obscured my
reason; have made me forgetful of my advanced years, and of the little
favour I was likely to find in the eyes of a young maiden. I have
fallen into a pit through blindness, and I must extricate myself, sore
as will be the task. Bless thee, maiden, bless thee! May another be
happy in thy love, and never feel the barb of disappointment. I will
pray for thee, Mary--that Heaven may bless thee." And the Dominie
turned away and wept.

Mary appeared to be moved by the good old man's affliction, and her
heart probably smote her for her coquettish behaviour. She attempted to
console the Dominie, and appeared to be more than half crying herself.
"No, sir, do not take on so, you make me feel very uncomfortable. I
have been wrong--I feel I have--though you have not blamed me, I am a
very foolish girl."

"Bless thee, child--bless thee!" replied the Dominie, in a subdued
voice.

"Indeed, sir, I don't deserve it--I feel I do not; but pray do not
grieve, sir; things will go cross in love. Now, sir, I'll tell you a
secret, to prove it to you. I lo