maritan, and the recent occurrence will interest many who would
not be interested otherwise."

"My father has done what is right," said his daughter, with warmth. "I
should have done the same."

CHAPTER VIII.

"Oh, how happy here's our leisure!
Oh, how innocent our pleasure!"
_The Complete Angler._

John Hardy received a letter from his mother, dated from Hardy Place.

"My dearest John,

"Your weekly letters have become shorter, and I have read between the
lines that you are keeping back something from your mother; but this
doubt has been made a certainty from a letter of Robert Garth's to his
friends here. He writes, so I hear, that the 'governor' is sweet on a
parson's daughter in Denmark. Now, I know, dearest John, that you will
always be the true gentleman your father was; but this has distressed
me, because you say yourself nothing. Do come home to me. I miss the
sound of your footstep, the manly voice that reminds me of your
father, and, above all, your kindly manner to your mother. Write at
once, as my anxiety is more than I can bear."

There was more in the letter, breathing the same deep affectionate
solicitude a mother alone feels. John Hardy wrote at once.

"My dearest Mother,

"If I had anything to tell you, I should have told you long ago. I
have described Pastor Lindal's family to you in my letters, and, I can
only add, my respect for him grows daily. He does his duty with a
simplicity that is difficult to be understood in England, and I have
learnt to look forward to hearing his Sunday sermons, from their
freshness such as single-mindedness alone gives. I feel more the
earnestness of religion and the simplicity with which it should be
invested from the influence of his character. I know you will say that
this has nothing to do with Froken Helga Lindal, his daughter, and you
want to hear of her. All I can say is, that her character is what
would attract you. She does her duty in the Pastor's household with
simple exactness; she assists in visiting the parish, and is of
material use to her father in this respect. She is spoken of
everywhere and by all in praise and regard, and she is like her
father--simple and true. I cannot say that I do not admire so perfect
a nature, but I do not feel now a wish to ask her to be my wife, and
if I did she would say 'no.' Her father is a widower, and his daughter
is his right hand. His two boys, who are really good lads, have to be
conside