Perhaps from some vague rumour of his college honours which had been whispered abroad on his first arrival, perhaps because he was an unmarried, unencumbered gentleman, he had been called the bachelor.
The name pleased him, or suited him as well as any other, and the Bachelor he had ever since remained.

And the bachelor it was, it may be added, who with his own hands had laid in the stock of fuel which the wanderers had found in their new habitation.
The bachelor, then--to call him by his usual appellation--lifted the latch, showed his little round mild face for a moment at the door, and stepped into the room like one who was no stranger to it.
'You are Mr Marton, the new schoolmaster ?' he said, greeting Nell's kind friend.
'I am, sir.' 'You come well recommended, and I am glad to see you.

I should have been in the way yesterday, expecting you, but I rode across the country to carry a message from a sick mother to her daughter in service some miles off, and have but just now returned.

This is our young church-keeper?
You are not the less welcome, friend, for her sake, or for this old man's; nor the worse teacher for having learnt humanity.' 'She has been ill, sir, very lately,' said the schoolmaster, in answer to the look with which their visitor regarded Nell when he had kissed her cheek.
'Yes, yes.

I know she has,' he rejoined.