Rosamund had just made an end of her story, (as I was about to relate,) and was listening to the application of the moral, (which said application she was old enough to have made herself, but her grandmother still continued to treat her, in many respects, as a child, and Rosamund was in no haste to lay claim to the title of womanhood,) when a young gentleman made his appearance and interrupted them. It was young Allan Clare, who had brought a present of peaches, and some roses for Rosamund. He laid his little basket down on a seat of the arbor; and in a respectful tone of voice, as though he were addressing a parent, inquired of Margaret "how she did." The old lady seemed pleased with his attentions--answered his inquiries by saying, that "her cough was less troublesome a-nights, but she had not yet got rid of it, and probably she never might; but she did not like to tease young people with an account of her infirmities." A few kind words passed on either side, when young Clare, glancing a tender look at the girl, who had all this time been silent, took leave of them with saying, "I shall bring _Elinor_ to see you in the evening." When he was gone, the old lady began to prattle. "That is a sweet-dispositioned youth, and I _do_ love him dearly, I must say it--there is such a modesty in all he says or does--he should not come here so often, to be sure, but I don't know how to help it; there is so much goodness in him, I can't find it in my heart to forbid him. But, Rosamund, girl, I must tell you beforehand; when you grow older, Mr. Clare must be no companion for _you_: while you were both so young it was all very well--but the time is coming, when folks will think harm of it, if a rich young gentleman, like Mr. Clare, comes so often to our poor cottage.--Dost hear, girl? Why don't you answer? Come, I did not mean to say anything to hurt you--speak to me, Rosamund--nay, I must not have you be sullen--I don't love people that are sullen." And in this manner was this poor soul running on, unheard and unheeded, when it occurred to her, that possibly the girl might not be _within hearing_. And true it was, that Rosamund had slunk away at the first mention of Mr. Clare's good qualities: and when she returned, which was not till a few minutes after Margaret had made an end of her fine harangue, it is certain her cheeks _did_ look very _rosy_. That might have been from the heat of the day or from exercise, for she had been walking in the garden. Margaret, we know, was blind; and, in this case, it was lucky for Rosamund that she was so, or she might have made some not unlikely surmises. I must not have my reader infer from this, that I at all think it likely, a young maid of fourteen would fall in love without asking her grandmother's leave--the thing itself is not to be conceived. To obviate all suspicions, I am disposed to communicate a little anecdote of Rosamund.