Up to this time, Doctor Hodges had not judged it prudent to allow a meeting between Leonard and Nizza Macascree, but now, from reasons of his own, he resolved no longer to delay it.  Accordingly, on reaching his dwelling, he took the apprentice to her chamber.  She was standing in a pensive attitude, near a window which looked towards the river, and as she turned on his entrance, Leonard perceived that her eyes were filled with tears.  Blushing deeply, she advanced towards him, and greeted him with all the warmth of her affectionate nature.  She had quite recovered her good looks, and Leonard could not but admit that, had he seen her before his heart was plighted to another, it must have been given to her.  Comparisons are ungracious, and tastes differ more perhaps as to beauty than on any other point; but if Amabel and the piper’s daughter had been placed together, it would not have been difficult to determine to which of the two the palm of superior loveliness should be assigned.  There was a witchery in the magnificent black eyes of the latter—­in her exquisitely-formed mouth and pearly teeth—­in her clear nut-brown complexion—­in her dusky and luxuriant tresses, and in her light elastic figure, with which more perfect but less piquant charms could not compete.  Such seemed to be the opinion of Doctor Hodges, for as he gazed at her with unaffected admiration, he exclaimed, as if to himself—­ “I’faith, if I had to choose between the two, I know which it would be.”

This exclamation somewhat disconcerted the parties to whom it referred, and the doctor did not relieve their embarrassment by adding, “Well, I perceive I am in the way.  You must have much to say to each other that can in nowise interest me.  Excuse me a moment, while I see that the horses are ordered.”

So saying, and disregarding Leonard’s expostulating looks, he hurried out of the room, and shut the door after him.

Hitherto, the conversation had been unrestrained and agreeable on both sides, but now they were left alone together, neither appeared able to utter a word.  Nizza cast her eyes timidly on the ground, while Leonard caressed little Bell, who had been vainly endeavouring by her gamesome tricks to win his attention.

“Doctor Hodges spoke of ordering horses,” said Nizza, at length breaking silence.  “Are you going on a journey?”

“I am about to take Amabel to Ashdown Park, in Berkshire, to-morrow morning,” replied Leonard.  “She is dangerously ill.”

“Of the plague?” asked Nizza, anxiously.

“Of a yet worse disorder,” replied Leonard, heaving a deep sigh—­“of a broken heart.”

“Alas!  I pity her from my soul!” replied Nizza, in a tone of the deepest commiseration.  “Does her mother go with her?”

“No,” replied Leonard, “I alone shall attend her.  She will be placed under the care of a near female relative at Ashdown.”

“Would it not be better,—­would it not be safer, if she is in the precarious state you describe, that some one of her own sex should accompany her?” said Nizza.