"This is very wrong," he said--"very impious. I have thought of nothing else this day--and this is the consequence. I have dwelt upon the probability of calamity, until I have persuaded myself of its actual presence--looked for woe, until I have created it. This is not the patience and resignation which I teach; for shame, for shame!--go to thy closet, worm--repent and pray." Mr. Fairman resumed his seat, and hid his face for a time in his hands. At length he spoke again. "Proceed, Stukely. I am calm now. The thoughts and fears in which it was most sinfull to indulge, and which accumulated in this most anxious breast, are dissipated. What would you say? I can listen as I ought." "I am glad, sir, that the boys revisit their homes on Monday, and that a month, at least, will elapse before their return to you. In that interval, you will have an opportunity of providing them with a teacher worthier your regard and confidence; and, if I leave you at once, you will not be put to inconvenience." "I do not understand you." "I must resign my office, sir," I said with trepidation. "Resign? Wherefore? What have I said or done?" "Let me beg your attention, sir, whilst I attempt to explain my motives, and to do justice to myself and you. I mentioned the name of Miss Fairman." "You did. Ha! Go on, sir." "You cannot blame me, Mr. Fairman, if I tell you that, in common with every one whose happiness it is to be acquainted with that lady, I have not been insensible to the qualities which render her so worthy of your love, so deserving the esteem"--I stopped. "I am listening, sir--proceed." "I know not how to tell you, sir, in what language to express the growth of an attachment which has taken root in this poor heart, increased and strengthened against every effort which I have made to crush it." "Sir!" uttered the incumbent in great amazement. "Do not be angry, Mr. Fairman, until you have heard all. I confess that I have been imprudent and rash, that I have foolishly permitted a passion to take possession of my heart, instead of manfully resisting its inroads; but if I have been weak, do not believe that I have been wicked." "Speak plainly, Stukely. What am I to understand by this?" "That I have dared, sir, to indulge a fond, a hopeless love, inspired by the gentlest and most innocent of her sex--that I have striven, and striven, to forget and flee from it--that I have failed--that I come to confess the fault, to ask your pardon, and depart." "Tell me one thing," asked the incumbent quickly. "Have you communicated your sentiments to Miss Fairman?" "I have, sir." "Is her illness connected with that declaration?--You do not answer. Stukely, I am deceived in you. I mistrust and doubt you. You have _murdered_ my poor child." "Mr. Fairman, do not, I entreat"--