Again the family which I had seen the night before descended the hill from their abode.They were now dressed in their Sunday's best.The master of the house led the way.They presently joined us,when a quiet sober greeting ensued on each side.After a little time Peter shook me by the hand and bade me farewell till the evening;Winifred did the same,adding that she hoped I should be visited by sweet and holy thoughts.The whole party then moved off in the direction by which we had come the preceding night,Peter and the master leading the way,followed by Winifred and the mistress of the family.As I gazed on their departing forms,I felt almost inclined to follow them to their place of worship.I did not stir,however,but remained leaning against my oak with my hands behind me.
And after a time I sat me down at the foot of the oak with my face turned towards the water,and,folding my hands,I fell into deep meditation.I thought on the early Sabbaths of my life,and the manner in which I was wont to pass them.How carefully I said my prayers when I got up on the Sabbath morn,and how carefully I combed my hair and brushed my clothes in order that I might do credit to the Sabbath day.I thought of the old church at pretty D-,the dignified rector,and yet more dignified clerk.I though of England's grand Liturgy,and Tate and Brady's sonorous minstrelsy.I thought of the Holy Book,portions of which I was in the habit of reading between service.I thought,too,of the evening walk which I sometimes took in fine weather like the present,with my mother and brother-a quiet sober walk,during which I would not break into a run,even to chase a butterfly,or yet more a honey-bee,being fully convinced of the dread importance of the day which God had hallowed.And how glad I was when I had got over the Sabbath day without having done anything to profane it.And how soundly I slept on the Sabbath night after the toil of being very good throughout the day.
And when I had mused on those times a long while,I sighed and said to myself,I am much altered since then;am I altered for the better?And then I looked at my hands and my apparel,and sighed again.I was not wont of yore to appear thus on the Sabbath day.
For a long time I continued in a state of deep meditation,till at last I lifted up my eyes to the sun,which,as usual during that glorious summer,was shining in unclouded majesty;and then I lowered them to the sparkling water,in which hundreds of the finny brood were disporting themselves,and then I thought what a fine thing it was to be a fish on such a fine summer day,and I wished myself a fish,or at least amongst the fishes;and then I looked at my hands again,and then,bending over the water,I looked at my face in the crystal mirror,and started when I saw it,for it looked squalid and miserable.
Forthwith I started up,and said to myself,I should like to bathe and cleanse myself from the squalor produced by my late hard life and by Mrs.Herne's drow.I wonder if there is any harm in bathing on the Sabbath day.I will ask Winifred when she comes home;in the meantime I will bathe,provided I can find a fitting place.
But the brook,though a very delightful place for fish to disport in,was shallow,and by no means adapted for the recreation of so large a being as myself;it was,moreover,exposed,though I saw nobody at hand,nor heard a single human voice or sound.Following the winding of the brook,I left the meadow,and,passing through two or three thickets,came to a place where between lofty banks the water ran deep and dark,and there I bathed,imbibing new tone and vigour into my languid and exhausted frame.
Having put on my clothes,I returned by the way I had come to my vehicle beneath the oak tree.From thence,for want of something better to do,I strolled up the hill,on the top of which stood the farm-house;it was a large and commodious building built principally of stone,and seeming of some antiquity,with a porch,on either side of which was an oaken bench.On the right was seated a young woman with a book in her hand,the same who had brought the tray to my friends and myself.
'Good-day,'said I,'pretty damsel,sitting in the farm porch.'
'Good-day,'said the girl,looking at me for a moment,and then fixing her eyes on her book.
'That's a nice book you are reading,'said I.
The girl looked at me with surprise.'How do you know what book it is?'said she.
'How do I know-never mind;but a nice book it is-no love,no fortune-telling in it.'
The girl looked at me half offended.'Fortune-telling!'said she,'I should think not.But you know nothing about it';and she bent her head once more over the book.
