Besides，he could not bind all that he had in his nature- the rover，the aspirant，the poet，the priest- in the limits of a single passion.

He could not- he would not- renounce his wild field of mission warfare for the parlours and the peace of Vale Hall. I learnt so much from himself in an inroad I once，despite his reserve，had the daring to make on his confidence.

Miss Oliver already honoured me with frequent visits to my cottage.

I had learnt her whole character，which was without mystery or disguise: she was coquettish，but not heartless; exacting，but not worthlessly selfish. She had been indulged from her birth，but was not absolutely spoilt. She was hasty，but good-humoured; vain (she could not help it，when every glance in the glass showed her such a flush of loveliness)，but not affected; liberal-handed; innocent of the pride of wealth; ingenuous; sufficiently intelligent; gay，lively，and unthinking: she was very charming，in short，even to a cool observer of her own sex like me; but she was not profoundly interesting or thoroughly impressive. A very different sort of mind was hers from that，for instance，of the sisters of St. John. Still，I liked her almost as I liked my pupil Adele; except that，for a child whom we have watched over and taught，a closer affection is engendered than we can give an equally attractive adult acquaintance.

She had taken an amiable caprice to me. She said I was like Mr. Rivers，only，certainly，she allowed，"not one-tenth so handsome，though I was a nice neat little soul enough，but he was an angel." I was，however，good，clever，posed，and firm，like him. I was a lusus naturae，she affirmed，as a village schoolmistress: she was sure my previous history，if known，would make a delightful romance.