One day an old maid and an old clergyman met in the High Street of C------. "And how do you do, ma'am?" said the clergyman; "how is the rheumatism?" "Better, thank you, sir. Any news?" The clergyman smiled, and something 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, your sentiments do you honour; you'll be sure not to say anything of our little mystery." "Not a syllable."