"Don't believe one word you hear against him!" wrote the good woman. "He has been slandered as others have been for the same reason, and my mind misgives me that Miss Leighton will have enough of these tales poured into her ear; but there is not one word of truth in them. Never was any man more careful of giving occasion for evil speaking than he."
Mrs. Thorpe told me a great deal more, as to how the people were busy with the defences of the town—how active Mr. Wesley had been in promoting loyal addresses, and how he had preached again and again, now in St. Anne's church, the only one opened to him, * now at the Sandgate, to the lowest of the people, and again to the soldiers and officers at the camp, being listened to everywhere with great attention. How Mr. Cheriton, though he did not hold with him in all things, yet sought his advice and looked up to him as a father. I could see that a great change had taken place in Mrs. Thorpe's feelings toward the Methodists.
* I do not know that in fact any church was ever opened to Mr. Wesley in Newcastle. L. E. G.
"I had news of an old friend of yours by Mr. Wesley!" she added, in conclusion. "He tells me that the French gentleman, who came over with us, Father Brousseau, has become a Protestant, and means, if possible, to take orders in the Church of England."
Here was a budget of news, and I was in haste to carry it to Amabel. I took my leave of Aunt Deborah, not thinking how soon I was to see her again, and hastened homeward.
[CHAPTER XXIII.]
A HASTY REMOVAL.
I HAD taken a short cut across the park in my hurry, but, as so often happens, my more haste turned out worse speed, for I got among the springs and had to go back.
I knew there was a path higher up on the hillside, leading through a very quiet and sequestered part of the domain, and crossing the beck by a little stone footbridge. I struck into this path and following it, I came out on a level spot of ground surrounded on all sides by high trees, where was a little pavilion half in ruins. The place had no very good name, being tenanted by some of the numerous bogeys with which the place abounded.