"I towld un that 'ee'd never find no paice that way. Ther's no paice 'cept in the dear Lord. I'm sorry you be'ant a perfessin' Christian, sur."
It did not seem strange to Leicester that she should talk in this way. It seemed natural to her. Besides, in the rural parts of Cornwall and Devonshire, religion is the main topic of conversation among those who love the little roadside chapels.
"Well, as I was a-sayin'," she went on, "this gen'l'man ded zay funny things. He zed 'ee'd nuther father, nor mawther, nor wife, nor sweetheart, and that he ded'n care nothin' 'bout livin'. And then all ov a sudden he axed me wot I wud do ef I wos in his plaace."
"And what did you tell him?" asked Leicester.
"I towld 'im that he must seek the Lord, and fight the devil. Ther's no other way fer et, sur."
"And did he, do you think?"
"I'm feard not, sur. For afterwards it comed to me who he was. I d' believe he was the gen'leman who tried to git into Parliament for Taviton. I s'pose 'ee wos a awful character. He decaived 'is young laady, he was a ter'ble drunkard, and then afterwards, he thrawed hisself in the revver up to London. 'Twa'sn' he that ded conquer the devil, but the devil conquered he. Ah well, the poor thing es ded now ef 'twas 'ee; 'tes a sad pity."
"And do you believe if he'd sought the Lord, as you call it, that he would have conquered the devil?"
"I doan't believe, sur, I'm sure."
Again Leicester became interested in the country-woman's simple talk. There was such a ring of sincerity in her voice, that he could not but be respectful.