When Mrs. Lawley came up-stairs to remove her lodger’s breakfast-things, she looked glowing with importance, and, after a short hesitation, confided to him the great family secret--Mr. Tom Burton, of Ravenscroft Farm, had offered for Lucy, and they were to be married that day week. “You’ll have seen him, sir, maybe?” said the proud mother; “he’s been here as often as twice a-week; and, when I told him it behoved him to stop at home and attend to his farm, he’d tell me that corn would grow without watching; and I soon saw what he meant. So, as Lucy was noways unwilling, I bade ’em have done with all this courting and courting, and get wed out of hand. Perhaps, Mr. David, you’ll be so good as go out for the day, and let us have your room for breakfast--or we should be proud of your company, sir.” The poor poet almost choked over his congratulations, but he got them out in a way. Soon after, he saw the lovers cross the street, arm-in-arm, spruced up for the occasion, and looking as stiff as Sunday clothes worn on a week-day always make rustic lovers look--everybody who met them might know what they were. Tom had a rather bashful and surprised expression; as if he were astonished to find himself part owner of such a fresh, modest, little daisy of a sweetheart, and were not quite sure that it was her cottage bonnet just below his great shoulder, for so long as Davie had them in sight he kept looking down into it to make sure Lucy was there. Davie’s feelings were almost too much for him, but he made a magnanimous resolve that as Lucy had been so good and attentive to him, he would make her a present, and, that he might endure the deepest pangs, that present should be the wedding dress and bonnet. He went off accordingly, post haste, to a great millinery establishment, and purchased a dove-coloured silk dress, and the most sweetly pretty white bonnet, with orange blossoms, that could be had for money. When Lucy and Tom returned from their walk, he called her up-stairs and presented them to her. She contemplated them with surprised delight, blushing and clasping her hands over them: never was there anything so beautiful. Davie bade her try the bonnet on, to see how it would fit, and, without an atom of coquetry, she put it on, tied the strings under her chin, and rose on tip-toe to peep at herself in the glass over the chimney-piece.