Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.'

"They are true, and, while men last, they always will be true."

"Oh! Arthur," she answered, earnestly, and for the first time
addressing him in conversation by his Christian name, "how limited
your trust must be in the mercy of a Creator, whose mercy is as wide
as the ocean, that you can talk like that! You speak of me, too, as
better than yourself--how am I better? I have my bad thoughts and do
bad things as much as you, and, though they may not be the same, I am
sure they are quite as black as yours, since everybody must be
responsible according to their characters and temptations. I try,
however, to trust in God to cover my sins, and believe that, if I do
my best, He will forgive me, that is all. But I have no business to
preach to you, who are older and wiser than I am."

"If," he broke in, laying his hand involuntarily upon her own, "you
knew--although I have never spoken of them to any one before, and
could not speak of them to anybody but yourself--how these things
weigh upon my mind, you would not say that, but would try to teach me
your faith."

"How can I teach you, Arthur, when I have so much to learn myself?"
she answered, simply, and from that moment, though she did not know it
as yet, she loved him.

This conversation--a very curious one, Arthur thought to himself
afterwards, for two young people on a spring morning--having come to
an end, nothing more was said for some while, and they took their way
down the hill, varying the route in order to pass through the little
hamlet of Bratham. Under a chestnut-tree that stood upon the village
green, Arthur noticed, _not_ a village blacksmith, but a small crowd,
mostly composed of children, gathered round somebody. On going to see
who it was, he discovered a battered-looking old man with an
intellectual face, and the remnants of a gentlemanlike appearance,
playing on the violin. A very few touches of his bow told Arthur, who
knew something of music, that he was in the presence of a performer of
no mean merit. Seeing the quality of his two auditors, and that they
appreciated his performance, the player changed his music, and from a
village jig passed to one of the more difficult opera airs, which he
executed in brilliant fashion.

"Bravo!" cried Arthur, as the last notes thrilled and died away; "I
see you understand how to play the fiddle."

"Yes, sir, and so I should, for I have played first violin