might learn and profit by his long experience.”  Michael consented—­why should he not?—­to be the junior partner in the prosperous house of Allcraft senior and Son.  Three months passed speedily, and Margaret still continued Abraham’s tenant.  She had lost the sting of her sorrow in the scenes of natural beauty by which she was surrounded.  She had lived in strict retirement, and a gentle tide of peace was flowing gradually and softly to her soul again.  She thought of quitting the tranquil cot with pain, and still fixed day after day for a departure that she could not take.  The large house, associated as it was with all her grief, looked dismal at a distance.  How would it be when she returned to it, and revisited the well-known rooms?  Every article of furniture was in one way or another connected with the departed.  She never—­no never could be happy there again.  The seclusion to which she doomed herself had not prevented Abraham Allcraft from being her daily visitor.  His age and character protected her from calumny.  His sympathy and great attention had merited and won her unaffected gratitude.  She received his visits with thankfulness, and courted them.  The wealth which it was known he possessed acquitted him of all sinister designs; and it was easy and natural to attribute his regard and tenderness to the pity which a good man feels for a bereavement such as she had undergone.  The close of six months found her still residing at the cottage, and Abraham still a constant and untiring friend.  He had been fortunate enough to give her able and important counsel.  In the disposition of a portion of her property, he had evinced so great a respect for her interest, had regarded his own profit and advantages so little, that had Margaret not been satisfied before of his probity and good faith, she would have been the most ungrateful of women not to acknowledge them now.  But, in fact, poor Margaret did acknowledge them, and in the simplicity of her nature had mingled in her daily prayers tears of gratitude to Heaven for the blessing which had come to her in the form of one so fatherly and good.  In the meanwhile where was Michael?  At home—­at work—­under the surveillance of a parent who had power to check and keep in awe even his turbulent and outbreaking spirit.  He had taken kindly to the occupation which had been provided for him, and promised, under good tuition, to become in time a proper man of business.  He had heard of the Widow Mildred—­her unbounded wealth—­her unrivalled beauty.  He knew of his father’s daily visit to the favoured cottage, but he knew no more; nor more would he have cared to know had not his father, with a devil’s cunning, and with much mysteriousness, forbidden him to speak about the lady, or to think of visiting her so long as she remained amongst them.  Such being the interdict, Michael was, of course, impatient to seek out the hidden treasure, and determined to behold her.  Delay increased desire, and desire with him was equal