"She's a very good woman,—an excellent woman, and her heart is full of love and charity. But—"
"I quite understand it, my friend. She is not in all things the companion you desire."
"I am not quite sure that I shall want any companion."
"Ah!" sighed Mr. Prong, shaking his head, but still keeping his eyes closed.
"I think I would rather be alone, if I do not return to them at the cottage. I would fain return if only they—"
"If only they would return too. Yes! That would be a glorious end to the struggle you have made, if you can bring them back with you from following after the Evil One! But you cannot return to them now, if you are to countenance by your presence dancings and love-makings in the open air,"—why worse in the open air than in a close little parlour in a back street, Mr. Prong did not say,—"and loud revellings, and the absence of all good works, and rebellion against the Spirit." Mr. Prong was becoming energetic in his language, and at one time had raised himself in his chair, and opened his eyes. But he closed them at once, and again fell back. "No, my friend," said he, "no. It must not be so. They must be rescued from the burning; but not so,—not so." After that for a minute or two they both sat still in silence.
"I think I shall get two small rooms for myself in one of the quiet streets, near the new church," said she.
"Ah, yes, perhaps so,—for a time."
"Till I may be able to go back to mother. It's a sad thing families being divided, Mr. Prong."
"Yes, it is sad;—unless it tends to the doing of the Lord's work."