A warm color mantled the young girl's face as her eyes fell upon so
unexpected a visitor. She remembered him as the young man she had
met on the evening before; about whom she had dreamed all night, and
thought much since the early morning. Mark bowed, and, as an excuse
for calling, asked if her mother were at home.
"My mother died when I was but a child," replied the girl, shrinking
back a step or two; for Mark was gazing earnestly into her face.
"Ah! Then you are living with your--your--"
"Mrs. Lee has been a mother to me since then," said she, dropping
her eyes to the floor.
"Then I will see the good woman who has taken your mother's place."
Mark stepped in as he spoke, and took a chair in the neat little
sitting room into which the door opened.
"She has gone over to Mr. Lofton's," said the girl, in reply, "and
won't be back for an hour."
"Has she, indeed? Then you know Mr. Lofton?"
"Oh, yes. We know him very well. He owns our little cottage."
"Does he! No doubt you find him a good landland."
"He's a kind man," said the girl, earnestly.
"He is, as I have good reason to know," remarked the young man.
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