She was reassured, and regarding him as thus he continued, seemingly absorbed in his own particular thoughts—his fine, strikingly handsome and intellectual countenance on which seemed to have been originally impressed the stamp of talent of a higher order, and fitted for a wider field of action than the little theatre in which they at present found employment—the feelings to which this observation gave rise, moved her to express herself in accents not devoid of gentle, admiring interest, when she said:
"Mr. Temple, do not think me impertinent, but I sometimes wonder that you should linger so long in this remote, retired spot, where all the good that it is in your power to effect is necessarily of so limited and contracted a nature. Indeed," with a blush and a smile at her own temerity, "I shall feel almost a melancholy regret in thinking of you, when I am away, hiding your talents, wasting your powers amongst the mountain heather, or on the humble inhabitants of this obscure, though lovely valley."
"'What dost thou here, frail wanderer from thy task?
Why hast thou left those few sheep in the wild?'"
quoted Mr. Temple, a look of pleasure nevertheless lighting up the face which he again raised towards her.
"But a self-imposed task may not yours at present be?" persisted Miss Seaham.
He shook his head, but with the same smile continued:
"I never thought to have found you my tempter; but now tell me, whither would you direct me?"
"I direct you! oh, Mr. Temple, you speak ironically; but surely, there must be ways and means, by which one like you, may more effectually use your powers to the glory of God and the good of mankind, than by remaining in this secluded place, amongst people, who for the most part, do not even comprehend your language. If I understood aright, you only retired for a time, when some sorrow or trouble came upon you. I am very bold, to-night;" breaking off in some confusion, for she perceived a deep palor overspread his countenance, "but, I hope, now that there is such an excellent man as Mr. Lloyd to fulfil your voluntary duties, amongst the poor people of this dear place, you will not doom yourself longer to such—I could almost fancy it—ungenial retirement."
"Where should I go?" he sadly said, but with an earnestness which again surprised and startled Mary, whilst he fixed his eyes on her face as if on her answer his future course depended.
"Where?" she repeated with embarrassment, "you ask me, who know so little of the world, you who know so much?"