"'An idler in the land,
Contented if I might enjoy what others understand.'
No, Mr. Temple, I fear you must have found me a very incompetent disciple, and only flatter me when you talk of missing my services."
Mr. Temple smiled.
"I did not indeed speak professionally when I talked of missing you," he rejoined in a low, earnest tone, "though I by no means subscribe to your self-accusations, on the score of uselessness; besides, there are such things as moral influences," he added more seriously, with no assumption of superiority, but almost reverence in his tone and manner, "and in such, I am sure, as more than one can testify, you have not been found wanting, whilst at the same time remember, Mary more than Martha found acceptance in the eyes of Him they equally desired to serve."
"Alas! alas! Mr. Temple, if you do not flatter, you make me deeply ashamed, and I fear for the first time," she added with a degree of playful reproach, "I must set you down as an unfaithful pastor—speaking false-praise, when you should be sending me away with serious exhortation and advice as to my future course of life." The colour mounted in sudden force to Mr. Temple's brow.
"Then, God forgive me my unfaithfulness if so it be!" he murmured with strong emotion, "for I do indeed confess, that never did I feel less competent to act the part of Mentor, than I do now, standing before you this evening, only trembling to be awakened from a dream I fear as futile—though not less sweet—as any day-dream which may have coloured the pure light of your existence, Miss Seaham."
She looked up. Startled by the thrilling earnestness of the speaker's voice, and still more struck by the expression of the countenance bent down upon her, Mary Seaham withdrew her gaze in some confusion the crimson blood suffusing her temples, and with averted countenance, she said, with some hurried embarrassment, whilst striving to recover from the sort of alarm her feelings had undergone, yet scarcely conscious of what she uttered.
"I am not sorry then to find that you also can indulge in the weakness of a day-dream!"
But the awkward pause then followed—for Mr. Temple was silent after she made this remark and beginning to fear lest she might have offended him by its apparent lightness, she turned a timid glance towards her companion.
He was stooping down caressing the little dog by her side, not looking offended, but grave and abstracted.