w persons for miles round who did not know and then visit Mr.
Furze's shop.

"Good evening, Mr. Cardew."

"Ah! Mr. Catchpole, is that you? What are you doing here?"

"I have been to hear you preach, sir, and I thought I would have a stroll
before I went home."

"I thought I should like a stroll too."

The two went on together, and sat down on the seat. The moon had just
risen, nearly full, sending its rays obliquely across the water, and
lighting up the footpath which went right and left along the river's
edge. Mr. Cardew seemed disinclined to talk, was rather restless, and
walked backwards and forwards by the bank. Tom reflected that he might
be intruding, but there was something on his mind, and he did not leave.
Mr. Cardew sat down again by his side. They both happened to be looking
in the same direction eastwards at the same moment.

"If that lady thinks to cross to-night," said Tom, "she's mistaken. I'd
take her over myself, though it is Sunday, if the boat were not locked."

"What lady?" asked Mr. Cardew--as if he were frightened, Tom thought.

"The lady coming down there just against the willow."

Mr. Cardew was short-sighted, and could not see her. He made as if he
would go to meet her, but he stopped, returned, and remained standing.
The figure approached, but before Tom could discern anything more than
that it was a woman, it disappeared behind the hedge up the little bypath
that cut off the corner into Rectory Lane.

"She's gone," said Tom. "I suppose she was not coming here after all."

"Which way has she gone?" asked Mr. Cardew, looking straight on the
ground and scratching it with his stick.

"Into the town."

"I must be going, I think, Mr. Catchpole; good-night."

"I'll walk with you as far as your door, sir. There's something I want
to say to you."

Mr. Cardew did not reply, and meditated for a moment.

"It is a lovely evening. We will sit here a little longer. What is it?"

"Mr. Cardew, as I said, I have been to hear you preach, and I thank you
with all my heart for your sermon, but I want to ask you something about
it. What you said about the Mediator was true enough, but somehow, sir,
I feel as if I ought to have liked the first part most, but I couldn't,
and perhaps the reason is that it was poetry. Oh, Mr. Cardew, if you
could but tell me how to like poetry!"

"I am afraid neither I nor anybody else can teach you that; but why are
you anxious to like it? Why are y