Wesley had not reseated himself. He put his hand upon Mr. Hartwell's arm. The latter understood what he meant. They walked away together.
“I have seen nothing sadder for years,” said Wesley. “I have been asking myself if I am to blame. Should not I have been more careful in regard to that unhappy man?”
“If blame is to be attached to any it is to be attached to those who recommended the man to you, and I was among them,” said Hartwell. “I recall how you were not disposed to accept him into our fellowship by reason of his work with the divining rod; but we persuaded you against your judgment. I, for one, shall never forgive myself.”
“Was ever aught so saddening as that travesty of the most solemn event?” said Wesley. “And then the spectacle of that well-meaning but ill-balanced man! A clergyman of our Church—you saw him turn to mock the wretch? He made a jest upon the line that has never failed to send a thrill through me: 'No more sea.' Shocking—shocking!... Friend, I came hither with the full intention of administering a rebuke to Pritchard—of openly letting it be understood that we discountenanced him. But I did not do so to-day, and I am glad of it. However vain the man may be—however injuriously he may affect our aims among the people—I am still glad that I was turned away from saying a word against him.”
Mr. Hartwell was too practical a man to look at the matter in the same light. But he said nothing further about Pritchard. When he spoke, which he did after a time, it was about Bennet. He asked Wesley if he could guess why the man had spoken to him so bitterly. Why should the man bear him a grudge?
Wesley mentioned that Bennet had come upon him when he was walking with Polwhele's daughter from the Mill.
“Ah, that is the form of his madness—he becomes insanely jealous of anyone whom he sees near that girl. But one might have thought that you at least—oh, absurdity could go no further! But a jealous man is a madman; he is incapable of looking at even the most ordinary incident except through green glasses. You are opposed to clergymen marrying, are you not, Mr. Wesley? I have heard of your book——-”
“I wrote as I was persuaded at that time,” replied Wesley. “But more recently—I am not confident that I did not make a mistake in my conclusions. I am not sure that it is good for a man to be alone; and a clergyman, of all men, needs the sympathy—the sweet and humane companionship of a woman.”
“True, sir; but if a clergymen makes a mistake in his choice of a wife, there can be no question that his influence declines; and so many men of your cloth wreck themselves on the quicksand of matrimony. I daresay that 'tis your own experience of this that keeps you single, though you may have modified your original views on the subject. Strange, is't not, that we should find ourselves discussing such a point at this time? But this seems to be the season of strange things, and 'twould be the greatest marvel of all if we ourselves were not affected. Is it the terrible heat, think you, that has touched the heads of those two men?”
“I scarce know what I should think,” said Wesley. “The case of Pritchard is the more remarkable. Only now it occurred to me that there may be a strange affinity between the abnormal in nature and the mind of such a man as he.'Twould be idle to contend that he has not been able as a rule to say where water is to be found on sinking a shaft; I have heard several persons testify to his skill in this particular—if it may be called skill. Does not his possession of this power then suggest that he may be so constituted that his senses may be susceptible of certain vague suggestions which emanate from the earth, just as some people catch ague—I have known of such in Georgia—when in the neighbourhood of a swamp, while others remain quite unaffected in health?”