Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from David Elginbrod, Vol. 1 of 3
Meg's mother stood at the cottage door, with arms akimbo and clouded brow, calling through the holes of a little forest of fir-trees after her daughter. One would naturally pre sume that the phrase she employed, comparing her daughter's motions to those of a shuttle that had gane wull, or lost its way, im plied that she was watching her as she'thread ed her way through the trees. But although she could not see her, the fir-wood was cer tainly the likeliest place for her daughter to be in; and the figure she employed was not in the least inapplicable to Meg's usual mode of wandering through the trees, that operation being commonly performed in the most erratic manner possible. It was the ordinary occu patiou of the first hour of almost every day of Margaret's life. As soon as she woke in the morning, the fir-wood drew her towards it, and she rose and went. Through its crowd of slender pillars, she strayed hither and thither, in an aimless manner, as if resignedly haunting the neighbourhood of something she.
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