CHAPTER XII.
LOVE.
With the earliest peep of day arose sweet Grace, full of cheerful hope, and prayer, and happy resignation.

She had a great deal to do that morning; for, innocent girl, she had no notion that it was quite possible to be too early at the Hall; her only fear was being too late.

Then there were all the household cares to see to, and the dear babes to dress, and the place to tidy up, and breakfast to get ready, and, any how, she could not be abroad till half-past eight: so, to her dismay, it must be past nine before ever she can see Sir John.

Let us follow her a little: for on this important day we shall have to take the adventures of our labourer's family one at a time.
By twenty minutes to nine, Grace had contrived to bustle on her things, give the rest the slip, and be tripping to the Hall.

It is nearly two miles off, as we already know; and Grace is such a pretty creature that we can clearly do no better than employ our time thitherward by taking a peep at her.
Sweet Grace Acton, we will not vex thy blushing maiden modesty by elaborate details of form, and face, and feature.