“Nay, sir,” said the newcomer. “'Twould be foolish to condemn simply
because I do not understand. I am a stranger to this county of England;
I have had no chance of becoming familiar with your pastimes. Dear
child, forgive me if I broke in upon your merriment,” he added, turning
to Nelly; “Good sir,”--he was now facing the miller--“I have ridden
close upon thirty miles to-day--the last four in the want of a shoe; my
horse must have cast it in the quagmire between the low hills. Yours
was the first light that I saw--I was in hopes that it came from a
blacksmith's forge.”
The miller laughed.
“'Tis better than that, good sir,” said he. “The truth is that the smith
of these parts is a fellow not to be trusted by travellers: his forge
is black tonight, unless his apprentices are better men than he. He is a
huge eater of salmon and divers dainties, and he will drink as much as a
mugful of cider before the night is past.”
“But he is a fellow that is ready to sacrifice a cut of salmon and a
gallon of cider to earn a sixpence for a shoe, sir,” said Hal Holmes,
rising from the settee and giving himself a shake. “In short, sir, I
be Holmes, the smith, whose lewd character has been notified to your
honour, and if you trust me with your nag, I'll promise you to fit a
shoe on him within the half-hour.”
The stranger looked from the smith to the miller, and back again to the
smith, and his smile broadened.
“Good neighbours both, I can see,” he said. “I thank you, smith. How far
is it to Porthawn, pray, and what may this placed be called?”
Before he could be answered the door opened and Jake Pullsford entered
the room. The sound of his entrance caused the stranger to turn his
head. Jake gave an exclamation of surprise.
“Mr. Wesley!” he said in a whisper that had something of awe in its
tone. “Mr. Wesley! How is this possible? I have spent the afternoon
talking of you, sir.”
At the sound of the name the miller glanced meaningly at the smith. They
were plainly surprised.
“Well, my brother,” said Mr. Wesley, “I ask nothing better than to give
you the chance of talking to me for the next hour. I remember you well.
You are Jake Pullsford, who came to see me a month ago at Bristol. You
have been much in my thoughts--in my prayers.”
CHAPTER IV
Jake was so excited at finding himself by a curious accident once
more face to face with the man who, as he had happily confessed to his
friends, had produced so great an impression upon him as to change the
whole course of his life, that he began to talk to him in his usual
rapid way, as though Mr. Wesley and himself were the only persons in the
room.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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