wondered at, that the glimpse of a pretty maiden should, one
morning, occasion him some welcome excitement. Passing downstairs
to breakfast, he observed the drawing-room door ajar, and looked in
to see what sort of a room it was; for so seldom was it used that he
had never yet entered it. There stood a young girl, peeping, with
mingled curiosity and reverence, into a small gilt-leaved volume,
which she had lifted from the table by which she stood. He watched
her for a moment with some interest; when she, seeming to become
mesmerically aware that she was not alone, looked up, blushed
deeply, put down the book in confusion, and proceeded to dust some
of the furniture. It was his first sight of Margaret. Some of the
neighbours were expected to dinner, and her aid was in requisition
to get the grand room of the house prepared for the occasion. He
supposed her to belong to the household, till, one day, feeling
compelled to go out for a stroll, he caught sight of her so occupied
at the door of her father's cottage, that he perceived at once that
must be her home: she was, in fact, seated upon a stool, paring
potatoes. She saw him as well, and, apparently ashamed at the
recollection of having been discovered idling in the drawing-room,
rose and went in. He had met David once or twice about the house,
and, attracted by his appearance, had had some conversation with
him; but he did not know where he lived, nor that he was the father
of the girl whom he had seen.




CHAPTER III.

THE DAISY AND THE PRIMROSE.