“Mr. Wesley,” he said in a low voice. “Mind this, sir: I would not have you do anything in this matter unless you feel that 'twould be for the good of the girl. 'Tis of the girl we have to think in the first place--the girl and her happiness. We must keep that before us, mustn't we, sir? So I ask of you as a man of judgment and wisdom and piety to abstain from saying a word to her in my favour unless you are convinced that I am the man to make her happy. Look at me, sir. I tell you that I will not have the girl cajoled into marrying a man simply because she has given him her promise. What! should she have a life of wretchedness simply because a year ago she did not know her own mind?” “Captain Snowdon, give me leave to tell you that you are a very noble fellow,” said Wesley. “The way you have acted makes me more certain than ever that Nelly Polwhele is the most fortunate young woman in Cornwall, no matter what she may think of the matter. Since I have heard you, sir, what before was a strong intention has become a duty. Hasten to Nelly and send her hither.” The man went to the door quickly, but when there he hesitated. “To be sure 'twould be better if you was to speak to her without her knowing that I had been with you; but we cannot help that; we are not trying to trick the girl into keeping her promise,” said he. “The knowledge that you have been with me would make no difference to her,” said Wesley. “She knows that I would not advise her against my judgment, to please even the man who, I know, loves her truly as man could love woman.” Captain Snowdon's broad back filled up the doorway in an instant. CHAPTER XXV John Wesley sat alone in the room, thinking his thoughts. They were not unhappy, though tinged with a certain mournfulness at times. The mournful tinge was due to the reflection that once more he must reconcile himself to live alone in the world. For a brief space he had had a hope that it might be given to him to share the homely joys of his fellow-men. He now saw that it was not to be; and he bowed his head to the decree of the Will which he knew could not err. Alone? How could such a reflection have come to him? How could he who sought to walk through the world with the Divine companionship of the One to whom he trusted to guide his steps aright feel lonely or alone? This was the thought that upheld him now. He could feel the hand that he knew was ever stretched out to him. He touched it now as he had touched it before, and he heard the voice that said: “I have called ye friends.”