“I dare not say that 'twas my own judgment that guided me,” said Wesley. “But--I hope, friend Hartwell, that I shall never be led to take any step that will jeopardise your good opinion of my capacity to judge what course is the right one to pursue in certain circumstances.” “Believe me, Mr. Wesley, after the events of yesterday I shall not hesitate to say that you were in the right and I in the wrong, should I ever be disposed to differ from you on a matter of moment. But I cannot think such a difference possible to arrive,” said Hartwell. “Differences in judgment are always possible among good friends,” said Wesley. “I should like to have a long talk with you some day, Mr. Wesley, on the subject of the influence of such powers as are at the command of Pritchard,” said Hartwell. “Are they the result of sorcery or are they a gift from above? I have been thinking a great deal about that trance of his which we witnessed. How was it possible for him to foresee the place and the form of that wreck, think you?” “Howsoever his powers be derived,” replied Wesley, “the lesson that we must learn from his case is that we cannot be too careful in choosing our associates. For myself, I have already said that I mistrusted him from the first, as I should any man practising with a divining rod.” “We should have done so, too, sir, only that we had become so accustomed to his water-finding, it seemed as natural to send for him when sinking a well as it was to send for the mason to build the wall round it when the water was found.” This was all that they said at that time touching the remarkable incidents of the week. Both of them seemed to regard the case of Pritchard as closed, although they were only in the morning of the day which the man had named in his prediction. Mr. Hartwell even assumed that his guest would be anxious to set out on his return to the west before noon, and he was gratified when Wesley asked for leave to stay on for a day or two yet. Wesley spent an hour or two over his correspondence, and all the time the matter which he had at heart caused him to lay down his pen and lie back in his chair, thinking, not upon the subject of his letters, but upon the question of approaching Nelly Polwhele, and upon the question of the letter which he would have to write to his brother when he had seen the girl; for whether she accepted him or refused him, he felt that it was his duty to inform his brother as to what had occurred.