You know I'm the same as a father to her; so you can't escape me, if you are going to be her friend." Mercy looked up half-shamefacedly and half-archly, and replied,-- "It was not that I wanted to escape you; but I wanted you to escape me." She perceived that the Parson had been told of her refusals to meet him.
Then they all sat down again on the jutting rock; and Mercy, leaning forward with her hands clasped on her knees, fixed her eyes on Parson Dorrance's face, and drank in every word that he said.

He had a rare faculty of speaking with the greatest simplicity, both of language and manner.

It was impossible not to feel at ease in his presence.

It was impossible not to tell him all that he asked.

Before you knew it, you were speaking to him of your own feelings, tastes, the incidents of your life, your plans and purposes, as if he were a species of father confessor.