Nathan Blyth re-appeared for a moment to excuse his absence, and Adam Olliver, having led his donkey to the door, and mounted it, rode off in company with Farmer Houston. His last words to the silent and thoughtful blacksmith were,-- “Good mornin’, aud friend! Remember what you were singin’,-- Ah’ll trust tiv His faithfulness, happen what may, Ah’ll gooa tell the Lord all aboot it.” CHAPTER XXV. NATHAN BLYTH IS IN A QUANDARY. “Parental love, my friend, hath power o’er wisdom, And is the charm, which, like the falconer’s lure, Can bring from heaven the highest soaring spirits.” _Anon._ “Almighty love! what wonders are not thine! Soon as thy influence breathes upon the soul, By thee, the haughty bend the suppliant knee.” _Paterson._ Nathan conducted his unexpected, and, in truth, unwelcome visitor into his neat and tastefully furnished parlour, and the observant squire was much surprised to see so many evidences of refinement and artistic skill. On the walls, which were papered with a soft-hued pattern, hung a few first-class engravings in broad maple frames; and here and there an original crayon sketch or water-colour painting, betokening considerable talent, was suspended between them. A dark rosewood piano stood on one side, open and with one of Beethoven’s sonatas placed upon the music-holder. On the opposite side stood a couch, on which were placed antimacassars, cushions, &c., in Berlin woolwork. The remainder of the furniture was all in keeping, and all were more or less adorned with the handiwork of female fingers, while books of a high-class character were plentifully strewed on the table and gleamed in the book-case, through whose glass doors, the squire saw literary treasures which he had never associated with the anvil and the forge. Nathan handed his guest a chair, and stood waiting for an explanation of his visit. The squire asked him to be seated, and then said,-- “Nathan Blyth, I can well believe that my visit here is as unwelcome as it is unexpected. Our last interview, however necessary, was as unpleasant for you as it was distasteful to me, and I am willing to own that I had no desire that it should be repeated. I cannot charge myself with having said anything on that occasion that was not as courteous and conciliating as the circumstances would allow, and you must permit me to say that your own attitude and deportment was all that could be desired. You spoke and have acted as a man of honour, and I was compelled to acknowledge to myself that I had to do with a gentleman where I did not expect to find one.” Nathan bowed, but made no reply. “To-day,” continued the squire, “though my visit has to do with the same circumstances, I should not wish you to think or hope that my views on the former matter have undergone any change.”