omething hovered on his lips, which he
suppressed.

"Were you," the old maid resumed, "at Mrs. Macnab's last night? Charming
music?"

"Charming! How pretty that Mrs. Butler is! and how humble! Knows her
station--so unlike professional people."

"Yes, indeed!--What attention a certain banker paid her!"

"He! he! he! yes; he is very fatherly--very!"

"Perhaps he will marry again; he is always talking of the holy state
of matrimony--a holy state it may be--but Heaven knows, his wife, poor
woman, did not make it a pleasant one."

"There may be more causes for that than we guess of," said the
clergyman, mysteriously. "I would not be uncharitable, but--"

"But what?"

"Oh, when he was young, our great man was not so correct, I fancy, as he
is now."

"So I have heard it whispered; but nothing against him was ever known."

"Hem--it is very odd!"

"What's very odd?"

"Why, but it's a secret--I dare say it's all very right."

"Oh, I sha'n't say a word. Are you going to the cathedral?--don't let me
keep you standing. Now, pray proceed!"

"Well, then, yesterday I was doing duty in a village more than twenty
miles hence, and I loitered in the village to take an early dinner; and,
afterwards, while my horse was feeding, I strolled down the green."

"Well--well?"

"And I saw a gentleman muffled carefully up, with his hat slouched over
his face, at the door of a cottage, with a little child in his arms,
and he kissed it more fondly than, be we ever so good, we generally kiss
other people's children; and then he gave it to a peasant woman standing
near him, and mounted his horse, which was tied to the gate, and trotted
past me; and who do you think this was?"

"Patience me--I can't guess!"

"Why, our saintly banker. I bowed to him, and I assure you he turned as
red, ma'am, as your waistband."

"My!"

"I just turned into the cottage when he was out of sight, for I was
thirsty, and asked for a glass of water, and I saw the child. I declare
I would not be uncharitable, but I thought it monstrous like--you know
whom!"

"Gracious! you don't say--"

"I asked the woman 'if it was hers?' and she said 'No,' but was very
short."

"Dear me, I must find this out! What is the name of the village?"

"Covedale."

"Oh, I know--I know."

"Not a word of this; I dare say there is nothing in it. But I am not
much in favour of your new lights."

"Nor I neither. What better than the good old Church of England?"

"Madam