“Four thousand a-year!  Nancy;” said Mrs. Browne, exultingly.

“And a blithe look, and a warm, kind heart—­and a free step—­and a noble way with him to rich and poor—­aye, aye, I know the name.  No need to alter all my neat M.B.’s, done in turkey-red cotton.  Well, well! every one’s turn comes sometime, but mine’s rather long a-coming.”

The faithful old servant came up to Maggie, and put her hand caressingly on her shoulder.  Maggie threw her arms round her neck, and kissed the brown, withered face.

“God bless thee, bairn,” said Nancy, solemnly.  It brought the low music of peace back into the still recesses of Maggie’s heart.  She began to look out for her lover; half-hidden behind the muslin window curtain, which waved gently to and fro in the afternoon breezes.  She heard a firm, buoyant step, and had only time to catch one glimpse of his face, before moving away.  But that one glance made her think that the hours which had elapsed since she saw him had not been serene to him any more than to her.

When he entered the parlor, his face was glad and bright.  He went up in a frank, rejoicing way to Mrs. Browne; who was evidently rather puzzled how to receive him—­whether as Maggie’s betrothed, or as the son of the greatest man of her acquaintance.

“I am sure, sir,” said she, “we are all very much obliged to you for the honor you have done our family!”

He looked rather perplexed as to the nature of the honor which he had conferred without knowing it; but as the light dawned upon him, he made answer in a frank, merry way, which was yet full of respect for his future mother-in-law: 

“And I am sure I am truly grateful for the honor one of your family has done me.”

When Nancy brought in tea she was dressed in her fine-weather Sunday gown; the first time it had ever been worn out of church, and the walk to and fro.

After tea, Frank asked Maggie if she would walk out with him; and accordingly they climbed the Fell-Lane and went out upon the moors, which seemed vast and boundless as their love.

“Have you told your father?” asked Maggie; a dim anxiety lurking in her heart.

“Yes,” said Frank.  He did not go on; and she feared to ask, although she longed to know, how Mr. Buxton had received the intelligence.

“What did he say?” at length she inquired.

“Oh! it was evidently a new idea to him that I was attached to you; and he does not take up a new idea speedily.  He has had some notion, it seems, that Erminia and I were to make a match of it; but she and I agreed, when we talked it over, that we should never have fallen in love with each other if there had not been another human being in the world.  Erminia is a little sensible creature, and says she does not wonder at any man falling in love with you.  Nay, Maggie, don’t hang your head so down; let me have a glimpse of your face.”

“I am sorry your father does not like it,” said Maggie, sorrowfully.