back to the cottage.

It happened that evening, that her grandmother was in one of her best
humors, caressed Rosamund, talked of old times, and what a blessing
it was they two found a shelter in their little cottage, and in
conclusion told Rosamund, "she was a good girl, and God would one day
reward her for her kindness to her old blind grandmother."

This was more than Rosamund could bear. Her morning's disobedience
came fresh into her mind; she felt she did not deserve all this from
Margaret, and at last burst into a fit of crying, and made confession
of her fault. The old gentlewoman kissed and forgave her.

Rosamund never went near that naughty chasm again.

Margaret would never have heard of this, if Rosamund had not told of
it herself. But this young maid had a delicate moral sense, which
would not suffer her to take advantage of her grandmother, to deceive
her, or conceal anything from her, though Margaret was old, and
blind, and easy to be imposed upon.

Another virtuous _trait_ I recollect of Rosamund, and now I am in the
vein will tell it.

Some, I know, will think these things trifles--and they are so--but
if these _minutiæ_ make my reader better acquainted with Rosamund, I
am content to abide the imputation.

These promises of character, hints, and early indications of a _sweet
nature_, are to me more dear, and choice in the selection, than any