"
"Well now to-night, sir, when you talked about God moving in us, and
the force which binds the planets together, and all that, I am sure
you felt it, and I am sure it is true, and yet I was out of doors,
so to speak."
"Perhaps I may be peculiar, and it is you who are sane and sound."
"Ah, Mr. Cardew, if you were alone in it, and everybody were like
me, that might be true, but it is not so; it is I who am alone."
"Who cares for it whom you know? You are under a delusion."
"Oh, no, I am not. Why there--there." Tom stopped.
"There was what?"
"There was Miss Furze--she took it in."
"Indeed!" Mr Cardew again looked straight on the ground, and again
scratched it with his stick. It was a night of nights, dying
twilight long lingering in the north-west, the low golden moon, the
slow, placid, shining stream, perfect stillness. Tom was not very
susceptible, but even he was overcome and tempted into confidence.
"Mr. Cardew, you are a minister, and I may tell you: I know you
will not betray me. I love Miss Furze; I cannot help it. I have
never loved any girl before. It is very foolish, for I am only her
father's journeyman; but that might be got over. She would not let
that stand in her way, I am sure. But, Mr. Cardew, I am not up to
her; she is strange to me. If I try to mention her subjects, what I
say is not right, and when I drove her home from Chapel Farm, and
admired the view I know she admired, she directly began to speak
about business, as if she did not wish to talk about better things;
perhaps it is because I never was taught.
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