Mr. Ware then joined the stranger, and walked on towards the rectory; he said:—
"I can do nothing for her yet—but my sister is with her. It is too soon to offer comfort—for it seems like mockery in the first moments of anguish. You seem to take an interest in our favorite."
"It is impossible to be insensible to such heartrending scenes," he returned, laconically, as if to check further remark.
"We are much indebted, sir, for your exertions last night," said Mr. Ware, at length.
"Pray mention nothing of that," he said, evasively.
"But how can I help it—is it in the nature of man to receive favors with a thankless heart?"
"It is."
"Yes, but not, I trust, so soon after they have been conferred. I own that benefits are often, much too often forgotten—but you wrong us, if you believe we could so return a favor bestowed by a stranger. You shall receive my thanks, at least; and do not think my simple-hearted friends less accustomed to feel because they often express their feelings with difficulty. No, let me assure you, that as long as the tale of this night shall be told by the cottage hearth, so long will your name be spoken of with praise."
"Sir," he replied, "I have been soured by the world, or I should not have expressed a doubt, which, believe me, I am very far from feeling. I know, as you say, that my poor services will be handed down as part of this night's sad tale; and of yourself, sir," he slightly raised his hat, "I have seen enough to convince me, that you deserve my respect, even had I not seen it reflected from those whose hearts are difficult to win; and let me assure you, that I am more gratified than you would easily believe, for the good opinion you so kindly express, though I feel myself utterly unworthy of it. It were hard for me to doubt the existence of gratitude, when the smallest benefits, and even the kindly words of—
'Auld lang syne'