well,' said the clergyman. 'Let it be as you desire. She is
very young.' 'Old in adversity and trial, sir,' replied the
schoolmaster.

'God help her. Let her rest, and forget them,' said the old gentleman.
'But an old church is a dull and gloomy place for one so young as you,
my child.'

'Oh no, sir,' returned Nell. 'I have no such thoughts, indeed.'

'I would rather see her dancing on the green at nights,' said the old
gentleman, laying his hand upon her head, and smiling sadly, 'than have
her sitting in the shadow of our mouldering arches. You must look to
this, and see that her heart does not grow heavy among these solemn
ruins. Your request is granted, friend.'

After more kind words, they withdrew, and repaired to the child's
house; where they were yet in conversation on their happy fortune, when
another friend appeared.

This was a little old gentleman, who lived in the parsonage-house, and
had resided there (so they learnt soon afterwards) ever since the death
of the clergyman's wife, which had happened fifteen years before. He
had been his college friend and always his close companion; in the
first shock of his grief he had come to console and comfort him; and
from that time they had never parted company. The little old gentleman
was the active spirit of the place, the adjuster of all differences,
the promoter of all merry-makings, the dispenser of his friend's
bounty, and of no small charity of his own besides; the universal
mediator, comforter, and friend. None of the simple villagers had
cared to ask his name, or, when they knew it, to store it in their
memory. Perhaps from some vague rumour of his college honours which
had been whispered abroad on his first arrival, perhaps because he was
an unmarried, unencumbered gentleman, he had been called the bachelor.
The name pleased him, or suited him as well as any other, and the
Bachelor he had ever since remained. And the bachelor it was, it may
be added, who with his own hands had laid in the stock of fuel which
the wanderers had found in their new habitation.

The bachelor, then--to call him by his usual appellation--lifted the
latch, showed his little round mild face for a moment at the door, and
stepped into the room like one who was no stranger to it.

'You are Mr Marton, the new schoolmaster?' he said, greeting Nell's
kind friend.

'I am, sir.'

'You come well recommended, and I am glad to see you. I should have
been in the way yeste