nt, little Margaret expanded in beauty and
goodness, like a sweet flower planted in a fertile soil, and refreshed
by soft-falling dews and healthful breezes. She was something like her
own Scottish heather--distinguished by no uncommon brilliancy of mind or
person, but yet one upon whom your eye delighted to fall, and on whom
your heart could dwell with pleasure. Her clear, rosy complexion showed
that she had inherited none of her parent's delicacy of constitution;
and large, deep, violet-colored eyes, shaded by long lashes, made her
face a very interesting one. She was a most lovable little girl, gentle
and thoughtful beyond her years; it seemed as if something of the shadow
of her mother's grief had fallen upon her young spirit, repressing the
volatility of childhood, and making her ever considerate of the
feelings and studious of the comfort of others. She was her
grandfather's constant companion; and it was very beautiful to see these
two, so widely separated by years, and so closely united by affection,
entwining their lives together--the old man imparting instruction and
guidance, and the child warming his heart with the bright hopes and
sweet ways of her innocent age.

And so the three lived on, in perfect contentment and uninterrupted
peace, until Margaret was seven years old, when her grandfather was
taken ill, and the manse, once so happy, was filled with sorrow. He
lingered for some time, faithfully nursed by his daughter, who overtaxed
her own strength by her daily toils and nightly watchings. He at last
sank into the tomb, as a shock of corn, fully ripe, bends to the earth:
he was full of years, and of the honor merited by a life spent in the
arduous discharge of duty. His only regret was that he was unavoidably
separated from his son; and he advised his daughter, as soon as she had
settled his affairs, to accept Alan's pressing invitation to her to make
her home with him, and to depart with her child for America, where she
would be gladly welcomed.

After the funeral, as the new incumbent of the parish wished to take
possession of the manse as soon as possible, Mrs. Roscoe made
arrangements to leave the spot she loved so well: and disposing of the
furniture, and settling the debts incurred by her father's illness, she
found that no very large sum would be left after the passages across the
Atlantic were paid for. In Alan Roscoe's last letter, he had entered
into many details about his circumstances, in or