Richard relates his Illness and Retirement--A Village Priest and his two Daughters--His peculiar Studies--His Simplicity of Character--Arrival of a third Daughter--Her Zeal in his Conversion-- Their Friendship--How terminated--An happy Day--Its Commencement and Progress--A Journey along the Coast--Arrival as a Guest-- Company--A Lover’s Jealousy--it increases--dies away---An Evening Walk--Suspense--- Apprehension--Resolution--Certainty. TALES OF THE HALL. BOOK VI. _ADVENTURES OF RICHARD, CONCLUDED._ “This then, dear Richard, was the way you took To gain instruction--thine a curious book, Containing much of both the false and true; But thou hast read it, and with profit too. “Come, then, my Brother, now thy tale complete-- I know thy first embarking in the fleet, Thy entrance in the army, and thy gain Of plenteous laurels in the wars in Spain, And what then follow’d; but I wish to know When thou that heart hadst courage to bestow, 10 When to declare it gain’d, and when to stand Before the priest, and give the plighted hand; So shall I boldness from thy frankness gain To paint the frenzy that possessed my brain; For rather there than in my heart I found Was my disease; a poison, not a wound, A madness, Richard--but, I pray thee, tell Whom hast thou loved so dearly and so well?” The younger man his gentle host obey’d, For some respect, though not required, was paid; 20 Perhaps with all that independent pride Their different states would to the memory glide; Yet was his manner unconstrain’d and free, And nothing in it like servility. Then he began:--“When first I reach’d the land, I was so ill that death appear’d at hand; And, though the fever left me, yet I grew So weak ’twas judged that life would leave me too. I sought a village-priest, my mother’s friend, And I believed with him my days would end: 30 The man was kind, intelligent, and mild, Careless and shrewd, yet simple as the child; For of the wisdom of the world his share And mine were equal--neither had to spare; Else--with his daughters, beautiful and poor-- He would have kept a sailor from his door. Two then were present, who adorn’d his home, But ever speaking of a third to come; Cheerful they were, not too reserved or free, I loved them both, and never wish’d them three. 40 “The vicar’s self, still further to describe, Was of a simple, but a studious tribe; He from the world was distant, not retired, Nor of it much possess’d, nor much desired: Grave in his purpose, cheerful in his eye, And with a look of frank benignity. He lost his wife when they together past Years of calm love, that triumph’d to the last. He much of nature, not of man, had seen,