not altogether agreeable; and after rather a confused answer, and a request that he would accept the fish which he had just caught (a request, however, which the farmer at once declined), he abruptly took his leave. Franklin looked earnestly at his daughter, whose downcast eyes betokened an equal embarrass ment. "Has Charles Lever been here before to fish, Margaret?" said he. "Yes, father," answered the artless girl, "several times." "Then let me beg you will not allow him to come again—at least, if he does come, that you will not favour him with your company." This was said in rather a stern voice, which was quite unusual with Franklin in speaking to his daughter. The tears began to flow freely from Margaret's eyes, betraying too clearly how keenly she felt both the manner and the subject of her father's address. The good man at once discerned that her feelings were wounded; and though he grieved to see her so much affected, and feared that matters had gone farther than he was aware, yet he resolved at once to speak kindly as well as plainly to his daughter, as he always had done. 66 My dear Margaret," said he, taking her hand affectionately in his, "I know more of that young man's character than you do. If there were no other objection, I should be much grieved to see my daughter the wife of one who professed himself a dissenter from the Church. You, Margaret, I am sure, will never leave the Church in which you have been born and bred." "No, I will not indeed, dear father," sobbed Margaret. "Consider then, daughter, how painful and distressing it would be not to worship God with your husband, but to be obliged to look upon him as one who continually sinned against God, and despised His ministers. Then again, what is to become of your children? how are they to be educated? are they to be brought up as Dissenters? or, if they are to be trained in the Church, how painfully must they regard their father's schism, when they are old enough to be aware of its sinfulness. In short, I can see nothing but unhappiness and misery in a true Churchwoman, as I trust you are, being connected in marriage with a Dissenter." Poor Margaret could answer nothing to this appeal of her father. Though her heart was certainly more interested about Charles than she was aware, yet, as he had never spoken of marriage, she had not seriously put to herself the questions which her father now proposed, and the difficulties which stood way of their union had never occurred to her. But," continued her father, "I fear that young Lever is not even a Dissenter. He associates with a set of young men who have very loose notions indeed about religion; and I understand he is as bad as any of them. He is a violent radical, and a leader in the 66 in every thing that is lawless and bad. In short, dear Margaret, he is not worthy of you; his whole feelings and principles are entirely different from those in which it was the pride of your excellent mother, and in which, since she went to her rest, it has been my anxious desire, to train you. For your own happiness, therefore, as well as out of regard for the memory of your sainted mother, and, let me add, out of love for your father, I beg that you will give no further encouragement to this young man. Margaret was sadly distressed and almost ready to faint away, being bewildered with conflicting emotions; for though nothing like an engagement of any sort had passed between her and Charles, yet, it must be confessed, she had been pleased with his attention and captivated with his clever conversation; and he, of course, well knowing her purity of mind and high principle, had studiously refrained from saying or doing any thing which would shock or offend her. But the serious and affectionate tone of her father, and the perfect reliance which she placed in him, joined with the arguments which he had used, placed obstacles in the way of any further correspondence with Charles Lever which she felt were likely to be insuperable. The rest of the day and the night following were spent in bitter tears, not without earnest prayer to Almighty God to guide and support her. Her good sense, and habit of dutiful obedience, aided by a K higher power, soon enabled her to adopt the resolution which alone was consistent with her happiness; and the following morning she announced of her own accord to her father that she was ready then, as at all times, to comply with his wishes; and that thenceforth she would avoid the company of Charles Lever, unless her father should see cause to take off his interdict. CHAPTER XI. The Stranger. For he'd a way that many judged polite, CRABBE. Not long after the occurrences related in the foregoing chapter, a stranger arrived at Laxington one afternoon by the Birmingham coach. He put up at the Britannia, and announced his intention of staying probably some days. The stranger was a thin pale man, between thirty and forty. His outward appearance was respectable-his countenance intelligent, though at times forbidding. The emaciation of his cheek might have been the result of studious habits, or of dissipation; and there was an occasional sternness of expression which indicated deep thought either of good or evil. Soon after his arrival, the stranger walked out into the town, and, passing along the street, arrived at a bookseller's shop. Here he paused, and looked at the name over the door, then at the books in the window. He seemed dissatisfied, and disposed to pass on; but after proceeding a few paces, and looking up and down the street, he returned and entered the shop. |