y."

On Peregrine's knocking at the bookbinder's, a soft female voice cried,
"Come in!"--He opened the door, and a young girl, who was alone in the
room, came forward, and asked him in a friendly manner what he wanted.
She was about eighteen years old, rather tall than short, and slim,
with the finest proportions. Her hair was of a bright chestnut colour,
her eyes were of a deep blue, and her skin seemed to be a blended web
of lilies and roses. But more than all this were the purity and
innocence that sate upon her brow, and showed themselves in all her
actions.

When Peregrine gazed on the gentle beauty, it seemed to him as if he
had been hitherto lying in bonds, which a benevolent power had
loosened, and the angel of light stood before him. But his enamoured
gaze had confounded the maiden: she blushed deeply, and, casting down
her eyes, repeated more gently than at first, "What does the gentleman
want?" With difficulty Peregrine stammered out, "Pray, does the
bookbinder Lemmerhirt live here?" Upon her replying that he did, but
that he was now gone out upon business, Peregrine talked confusedly of
bindings which he had ordered, of books which Lemmerhirt was to procure
for him, till at last he came somewhat more to himself, and spoke of a
splendid copy of Ariosto, which was to have been bound in red morocco
with golden filleting. At this, it was as if a sudden electric spark
had shot through the maiden; she clasped her hands, and, with tears in
her eyes, exclaimed, "Then you are Mr. Tyss?" At the same time she made
a motion as if she would have seized his hand, but suddenly drew back,
and a deep sigh seemed to relieve her full breast. A sweet smile beamed
on her face, like the lovely glow of morning, and she poured forth
thanks and blessings to Peregrine for his having been the benefactor of
her father and mother, and not only for this,--no--for his generosity,
his kindness, the manner of his making presents to the children, and
spreading joy and happiness amongst them. She quickly cleared her
father's arm-chair of the books, bound and unbound, with which it was
loaded, wheeled it forward, and pressed him to be seated, and then
presented to him the splendid Ariosto with sparkling eyes, well knowing
that this masterpiece of bookbinding would meet with Peregrine's
approbation.

Mr. Tyss took a few pieces of gold from his pocket, which, the maiden
seeing, hastily assured him that she did not know the price of the
work,