of her hair.  Her features were exquisitely chiselled, delicate and classical in mould, and stamped with refinement and intelligence.  Perfect simplicity, combined with a total absence of personal ornament, distinguished her attire; and her raven hair was plainly, but by no means unbecomingly, braided over her snowy forehead.  Something in this simplicity of costume and in her manner inclined Jocelyn to think the fair maiden must belong to some family professing Puritanical opinions; and he found, upon inquiry from one of his neighbours in the throng—­an old farmer—­that this was actually the case.

The young lady was Mistress Aveline Calveley, his informant said, only child of Master Hugh Calveley, who had but lately come to dwell in Tottenham, and of whom little was known, save that he was understood to have fought at the battle of Langside, and served with great bravery, under Essex, both in Spain and in Ireland, in the times of good Queen Bess—­such times as England would never see again, the old farmer parenthetically remarked, with a shake of the head.  Master Hugh Calveley, he went on to say, was a strict Puritan, austere in his life, and morose in manner; an open railer against the licence of the times, and the profligacy of the court minions,—­in consequence of which he had more than once got himself into trouble.  He abhorred all such sports as were now going forward; and had successfully interfered with the parish priest, Sir Onesimus, who was somewhat of a precisian himself, to prevent the setting up the May-pole on the past Sunday,—­for which, the farmer added, some of the young folks owe him a grudge; and he expressed a hope, at the same time, that the day might pass by without any exhibition being made of their ill-will towards him.

“These Puritans are not in favour with our youth,” the old man said; “and no great marvel they be not; for they check them in their pleasures, and reprove them for harmless mirth.  Now, as to Mistress Aveline herself, she is devout and good; but she takes no part in the enjoyments proper to her years, and leads a life more like a nun in a convent, or a recluse in a cell, than a marriageable young lady.  She never stirs forth without her father, and, as you may suppose, goes more frequently to lecture, or to church, or to some conventicle, than anywhere else.  Such a life would not suit my grandchild, Gillian, at all.  Nevertheless, Mistress Aveline is a sweet young lady, much beloved for her kindness and goodness; and her gentle words have healed many a wound occasioned by the harsh speech and severe reproofs of her father.  There, Sir,—­you may behold her fair and saintly countenance now.  She seems pleased with the scene, and I am sure she well may be; for it is always a pleasant and a heart-cheering sight to see folks happy and enjoying themselves; and I cannot think that the beneficent Power above ever intended we should make ourselves miserable on earth, in order to win a place in heaven.  I am an old man, Sir; and feeling this to be true, I have ever inculcated my opinions upon my children and grandchildren.  Yet I confess I am surprised—­knowing what I do of her father’s character—­that Mistress Aveline should indulge herself with beholding this profane spectacle, which ought, by rights, to be odious in her eyes.”