to ply, their daily trade. Here,
a labouring man, late for his work, hurried by; there, a hale
old gentleman started for his early walk before breakfast. Now a
market-cart, already unloaded, passed me on its way back to the country;
now, a cab, laden with luggage and carrying pale, sleepy-looking people,
rattled by, bound for the morning train or the morning steamboat. I
saw the mighty vitality of the great city renewing itself in every
direction; and I felt an unwonted interest in the sight. It was as if
all things, on all sides, were reflecting before me the aspect of my own
heart.

But the quiet and torpor of the night still hung over Hollyoake Square.
That dreary neighbourhood seemed to vindicate its dreariness by being
the last to awaken even to a semblance of activity and life. Nothing
was stirring as yet at North Villa. I walked on, beyond the last houses,
into the sooty London fields; and tried to think of the course I ought
to pursue in order to see Margaret, and speak to her, before I turned
homeward again. After the lapse of more than half an hour, I returned
to the square, without plan or project; but resolved, nevertheless, to
carry my point.

The garden-gate of North Villa was now open. One of the female servants
of the house was standing at it, to breathe the fresh air, and look
about her, before the duties of the day began. I advanced; determined,
if money and persuasion could do it, to secure her services.

She was young (that was one chance in my favour!)--plump, florid, and
evidently not by any means careless about her personal appearance (that
gave me another!) As she saw me approaching her, she smiled; and
passed her apron hurriedly over her face--carefully polishing it for my
inspection, much as a broker polishes a piece of furniture when you stop
to look at it.

"Are you in Mr. Sherwin's service?"--I asked, as I got to the garden
gate.

"As plain cook, Sir," answered the girl, administering to her face a
final and furious rub of the apron.

"Should you be very much surprised if I asked you to do me a great
favour?"

"Well--really, Sir--you're quite a stranger to me--I'm _sure_ I don't
know!" She stopped, and transferred the apron-rubbing to her arms.

"I hope we shall not be strangers long. Suppose I begin our
acquaintance, by telling you that you would look prettier in brighter
cap-ribbons, and asking you to buy some, just to see whether I am not
right?"

"It's very kind of you to sa