arp walk of ten minutes, the lady stopped at a gate, which I
immediately knew to be the one I had so lately left.

"Now, sir, I am at home. Allow me to welcome to it my brave deliverer,
and to introduce him to my father."

"I require no introduction," replied I, "if you are, as I surmise, the
daughter of Captain Trimmer."

"Do you know him?--he is my father."

"I only left him about an hour ago; and fortunate it was that I did
not yield to his urgent wish for me to remain longer."

Captain Trimmer listened in breathless anxiety as his daughter told
the tale of her danger and deliverance; and drawing a long breath when
it was ended, he muttered "Heaven be praised!" He then rang the bell
violently, and gave the servants orders, and directions where to find
the wounded footpad.

"And now, my dear young friend," said he, "what can I say to _you_? I
can't say anything just now, my heart is too full! but there's my
hand, and you shall find me, as long as I live, a firm and warm
friend."

I could only press _his_ affectionately in reply. He insisted upon my
remaining where I was for the night, and despatched a man on horseback
to explain to my friends the reason of my absence. From this time my
intercourse with the worthy captain became daily more intimate--almost
every spare hour of my time was devoted to his society. As his
character opened out upon me, I saw in his conduct so many proofs of
genuine goodness of heart and rectitude of principle, that I felt as
much affection and respect for him as for a dear and honoured parent.
His daughter Emmeline, too, was one of those gentle, retiring
characters, who may require to be known to be admired, and whose
virtues, like those of the sweet and modest violet, require to be
sought after to be properly appreciated. I was always fond of music.
We all know its influence over the feelings--its power to awaken the
hidden sympathies of the heart--to recall the joys and sorrows of the
past, and to stir up glowing anticipations and high resolves for the
future. Her voice was clear and sweet as a bird's; and when she
warbled over the melodies of her native land, I felt so much absorbed
in the beauty of the strain, as almost to forget the singer. You
smile, and anticipate the result. How could it be otherwise? How could
I live in close and constant communion with one so fascinating, and
escape the fascination? It is not amid the factitious glare and
excitement of society that such c