A longer time than usual had passed since Maiden May had paid a visit to the cottage of her foster-parents.
Adam and the dame were seated in their usual places by the fire, the dame, never idle, busily employed in mending one of her son’s garments.
“You or I, mother, must go up this evening and inquire for our May,” said Adam, knocking the ashes out of his pipe. “She would never stay away from us so long of her own free-will; and either one of the ladies must have been taken ill, and they cannot spare her, or she herself may be ailing.”
“I pray heaven nothing has happened to her,” replied the dame. “I will just finish off Jacob’s coat and then go up myself. If she is ill I must ask the ladies’ leave to stay with her. I would sleep on the bare floor by her side rather than not be with her, sweet dear.”
“Yes, do,” said Adam in an anxious tone. “The Miss Pembertons will be glad to have you, mother, for there is no one—not even they themselves—can know better how to tend her than you.”
Just as Adam had finished speaking the latch was lifted, and a sweet-looking young girl entered the cottage. Her complexion was beautifully fair and glowing with health, her features delicately chiselled. A bright smile beamed from her blue eyes, while her figure was light and graceful, and though her dress was simple, there was that air of elegance and refinement about her rarely seen in so humble an abode.
The dame hurried across the room to fold her in her arms, while Adam put out both his hands to take hers, which she stretched forwards towards him. He bestowed a kiss, half reverential, half paternal, on her brow.
Her appearance, for it was Maiden May herself who entered, banished all their fears about her health.
“It does my heart good to see thee, my own Maiden May,” he said, gazing at her affectionately, and placing a chair for her by the side of his own. “We almost thought that thee had forgotten us. And yet, no, no—we knew thee would’st not have done that; but what kept thee away, my dear?”
“Miss Mary has been unwell, and required constant attention,” answered May; “and Miss Jane has been at Texford to see poor Sir Reginald. You probably have heard that he is dead.”