is."

"I do not, sir; and I believe I never shall. I propose to leave the
parsonage to-night, sir."

"No, to-morrow, we must have some talk. You need not see her. I
could not let you go to-night. You shall depart to-morrow, and I rely
upon your good sense and honourable feelings to avoid another meeting.
It could only increase the mischief that has already taken place, and
answer no good purpose. You must be aware of this."

"I am, sir. You shall have no reason to complain."

"I am sure of it, Stukely. You had better see about your preparations.
John will help you in any way you wish. Make use of him. There must
be many little things to do. There can be no impropriety, Stukely,
in your accepting the whole of your year's salary. You are entitled
to that. I am sorry to lose you--very--but there's no help for it. I
will come to your room this evening, and have some further
conversation. Leave me now." The incumbent was evidently much excited.
Love for his child, and apprehension for her safety, were feelings
that were, perhaps, too prominent and apparent in the good and
faithful minister of heaven; they betrayed him at times into a
self-forgetfulness, and a warmth of expression, of which he repented
heartily as soon as they occurred. Originally of a violent and
wayward disposition, it had cost the continual exercise and the
prayers of a life, to acquire evenness of temper and gentleness of
deportment, neither of which, in truth, was easily, if ever disturbed,
if not by the amiable infirmity above alluded to. He was the best of
men; but to the best, immunity from the natural weakness of
mortality is not to be vouchsafed.

Mr. Fairman was the last person whom I saw that night. He remained
with me until I retired to rest. He was the first person whom I saw
on the following morning. I do not believe that he did not rely upon
the word which I had pledged to him. I did not suppose that he
suspected my resolution, but I an convinced that he was most
restless and unhappy, from the moment that I revealed my passion to
him, until that which saw me safely deposited at the foot of the hill,
on my way to the village. So long as I remained in his house, he
could only see danger for his daughter; and with my disappearance he
counted upon her recovery and peace.

The incumbent was himself my companion from the parsonage. The
servant had already carried my trunk to the inn. At the bottom of
the hill, Mr. Fairman stopped and extende