There are some persons whose curiosity gains strength by opposition, and others who will not condescend to be at the expense of any great number of questions. Mr. Martindale was of this latter class. Indeed, had he received ever so much intelligence, it would have been of little use, for he would soon have forgotten it. There was another person present whose curiosity had been much more strongly excited. Horatio Markham felt himself fully convinced that the young woman was not a daughter of a cottager: he could, as he fancied, see clearly enough, by her manner and expression, that she was of much superior rank. It was very ridiculous for a young barrister, who had scarcely seen any society at all, who had been born and brought up in a country town, and of a humble family, or, more properly speaking, of no family at all, and who had spent most of his time in study;--it was very ridiculous for him to affect to decide what manners designated or manifested superior breeding. It is a species of vanity, however, in which Markham is by no means singular. Mr. Martindale having given the old man an assurance of his protection, and having now no more questions to ask, rose and took his leave, accompanied by his young friend. “That was a pretty young woman at the cottage, Mr. Barrister; but you must not fall in love with her. It will never do for professional men to make love-matches. Love in a cottage is very pretty, very poetical, very well to talk about.” Markham protested that he had not the slightest notion of falling in love with a person who was a total stranger to him; but seriously, he could not but acknowledge that there was something very superior in the look and manner of the young woman, and that it might not have been impossible for him to have received an impression, had he met with a similar person in a suitable rank in life. He felt himself not well pleased that Mr. Martindale should have thought it within the verge of possibility that a gentleman of the bar should condescend so low as to fall in love with a young woman, the niece of a poor cottager. He forgot, however, that during the time he was in the cottage, he had his eyes very much fixed upon the old man’s niece; he forgot how very completely his attention had been absorbed; and while he was speculating as to the causes which operated in bringing so much elegance and gracefulness into so humble an abode, Mr. Martindale thought him occupied in admiring the young woman’s pretty face. There was certainly a tolerable share of that species of beauty called prettiness in the composition of her features; but as she rather exceeded the middle stature, and wore a general look of thoughtfulness, the word pretty was not comprehensive enough for a description of her person. When she appeared in the court as a witness, her fine glossy black ringlets were totally concealed, and her dark eyes were so bent towards the ground that their life and expression were not visible.