On reaching the cottage, he found Miss Russell in violent grief, and quite bewildered what to do. He tried to console her, pointing out that perhaps some little lover’s quarrel with her cousin had taken her niece up to town; and the old lady listened eagerly, hoping against hope.
‘“Of late she has been so strange,” sobbed the old lady, “so unlike herself. Often, listening at her door o’ nights, I have heard her crying as if her heart was like to break; and she would never tell me what was the matter. Do you think--do you really think, sir, it was her cousin Walter?”
“I am almost certain of it,” said the good shepherd. “Did they correspond?”
“I think so--sometimes; but latterly they were estranged. Oh dear! Oh dear!”
“Depend upon it, she has gone to London to see him. You will no doubt have a letter from her in the course of the day. Keep up your spirits! Miss Dove is a good young lady, and I am sure God will protect her. Is there anything more that I can do for you?”
“It was so kind of you to come,” said the poor soul. “Your words are indeed a comfort.”
“I am glad to hear you say so. Your dear niece was always a favourite of mine.”
“Oh, sir, I know that; and sometimes I thought---- But there, it’s no time to talk of that _now_. If she had only gone to you for advice, you would have guided her for her good, and this would never have happened. She was always pious-minded, but latterly, I’m afraid, she didn’t go to church as often as she ought.”
“Don’t say that, Miss Russell. She was most regular in her religious duties--a pattern, indeed, to all my flock. There, there! I feel satisfied there is no cause for alarm. I will go myself and make every inquiry.”
“Oh, sir, you are an angel!” cried the old lady, looking at him in admiration. And she really meant what she said.
“Alas! no,” he answered, shaking his head solemnly--“only a poor miserable sinner. We are all miserable sinners. Good morning. Put your trust in God.”
“I do indeed, sir. But, sir, before you go, may I ask you a favour?”
“If you would kindly kneel down with me a moment, and say a prayer for my poor girl, I think it might help to bring her back. The Lord hears the prayers of the righteous, Mr. Santley.”
Thus entreated, Santley could not refuse. To do him justice, he felt no little moral nausea at the proposal; but he was helpless under the circumstances. So they knelt down in the parlour together, and the good man extemporized a short but eloquent prayer for the occasion, entreating the Lord to bring back the stray lamb to the fold, and beseeching a blessing then and for ever on all that house. Miss Russell wept profusely. His words were so beautiful, his voice so musical, his manner so seraphic. At last he rose to his feet, looking pale and almost scared at a proceeding which (to his own conscience) looked something like blasphemy; and then, amidst profuse blessings from the distracted old lady, he respectfully took his leave.