especial message to her, before it went on its way up the blue. She
extended her rambles in all directions, and began to get with the
neighbours the character of an idle girl. Little they knew how
early she rose, and how diligently she did her share of the work,
urged by desire to read the word of God in his own handwriting; or
rather, to pore upon that expression of the face of God, which,
however little a man may think of it, yet sinks so deeply into his
nature, and moulds it towards its own likeness.

Nature was doing for Margaret what she had done before for
Wordsworth's Lucy: she was making of her "a lady of her own." She
grew taller and more graceful. The lasting quiet of her face began
to look as if it were ever upon the point of blossoming into an
expression of lovely feeling. The principal change was in her
mouth, which became delicate and tender in its curves, the lips
seeming to kiss each other for very sweetness. But I am
anticipating these changes, for it took a far longer time to perfect
them than has yet been occupied by my story.

But even her mother was not altogether proof against the appearance
of listlessness and idleness which Margaret's behaviour sometimes
wore to her eyes; nor could she quite understand or excuse her long
lonely walks; so that now and then she could not help addressing her
after this fashion:

"Meg! Meg! ye do try my patience, lass, idlin' awa' yer time that
get. It's an awfu' wastery o' time, what wi' beuks, an' what wi'
stravaguin', an' what wi' naething ava. Jist pit yer han' to this
kirn noo, like a gude bairn."