Year: 1879

A>S AAASAN'sA >>-~~~
NV mother died when was so young
that had only shadowy remembrance
of a pale face and q long, last clasp to
her loving heart. T had been my fathers
pet and darling, and now he was dead,
too, and his will had consigned me, just
like bale of goods, to the care and
guardianship of his brother, doctor,
whose home lay among the picturesque
mountains of Cumberland.


was ''too impulsive," said the will,
and would ''throw myself anG my money
away before [ knew the value of either,
it had no one to take care Of me-" and
so, when my poor father died in the
south OF France, where we had gone to
winter, Uncle Ritson, who came barely
IN time to lay him in his foreign grave,
carried NE off at once to his house on the
bleak hillside, gave me kiss as he lift
ed NE out Of the stuffy vehicle which had
conveyed US from the station, presented
me to my aunt and cousins with q,
''Well, here's Adela,' and told me to
consider myself "at home.'


1t was the beginning Of January, in.
tensely cold. The sudden change from
a warmer climate had sensibly effected
me; was chilled under all my furs, and
perhaps more chilled by the restraining
influence of my fathers will, having pom
dered the 'too impulsiye" all through
the journey.


Certainly I was not "too impulsive"
On my entrance to my new "home."


Aunt and cousins had met me on tie
threshold with warm welcome, pressed to
remove my wraps and to make me COM
Portable. There was huge fire blazing
on the hearth, q teatable piled with north
country luxuries, and ali that should
have made me feel at home; but some
thing was wanting, and instead Of re.
spending to their greetings in my own
natural fashion, 1 dropped into q seat,
after the first glance around, and cover
ing my face with my hands, burst into
tears.


I have small, thin, quick ears. I over
heard Aunt Ritson whisper to Bella and
Winnie, as she drew them back


"Hush! It's but natural, poor barne !!
Leave your cousin alone, lasses; she will
come to herself all the sooner"


And Gid come to myself: but whether
my tears had fallen frostily on their hot
hearth, or we travellers had brought
chill IN with us, Or my own manner did
not invite etfusion, a certain air of re-
stralnt seemed to grow upon us; and
when | was shown the room set apart for
me, and left to myself, / flung myself
upon my bed and sobbed in passionate
grief tor my dead father, declaring that
l was alone in tae world, utterly alone.


And this Telling grew upon ne. Look
ing back, I am conscious that it was
much my own fault that T had not re-
sponded with sufficient warmth and grat-
1tude to the relatives who had made room
IN their household for one they had not
seen since she was a baby, and had met
with open arms and hearts.


They had heard that I was gushing
and exuberant, a creature Of impulse. and
finding me reserved and languid, con-
cluded that I, accustomed to elegance
and luxury, could not brook the homeli
ness and retirement Of my new life. was
rich, and they were not They mistook
my morbid melancholy for pride, and
ceased to press their society or attentions
on me, lest I should attribute to them
mercenary motives.


see it all now, but then I was blind.
1 had another grief at my heart besides
sorrow tor my dead parent, and | fear
whenever my thoughts few to that lone
~ grave among the Pyrenees, I ques-
toned the policy which had isolated me
from the world-the world in which nv
hero lived and moved-and prisoned nv
free soul among those unresponsive walls
of stone.


In this rhapsody I did not apostrophize
alone their four walls Of the solid stone
house that set against the mountain side.
with a back groud of pine, larch and
mountain ash, looked so cold and gray
staring with its many lidless eyes from
Its rocky perch above the struggling lake
village, On the steep, unguarded roadway
IN front. and the narrow strips of garden
ground stretching like green arms on
either side.


No, I held converse with the noun
talns. They were to me the barriers be-
tween love and life and happiness, but it
was only on their solitary heights felt
Tree to give the feeling utterance. The
thrifty household ways Of my aunt and
cousins, which kept them ever busv.
were strange to me. My dainty fingers
had no acquaintance with rolling-pin or
paste board. It was not I who kept so
bright the mirror in which I saw nv
own beauty, aye, and my own unhappi,
ness reflected. I was supposed to be
mourning, and, with mistaken delicacv
was left to do-nothing.


Had Uncle Ritson known it, or how I
spent my time, he would have shaken
me up like bottle of physic, and r
should have been the better for it, But
whether on foot, Or horseback, or in his
ancient gig, he was off in morning. and
frequently was absent all the day. His
patients We're scattered, and his rounds
extended.


L, having no occupation for hands or
energies, feeling myself something apart
from the rest, was of and away up the
breezy hillsides to the lonely margin Of
the lake, or into the most secluded clenr
my only companion my faithful dog:
and there, when there VS.
only the wind to answer
me, I poured forth all the pent up feel
ings OF my heart; and oft my gusts of
passion found utterance in song. At
times I took pencil and sketch book
with me in these wanderngs; but there
was ever one figure in the foreground of
the most picturesque scene, and often
enough the figure was there alone, the ad-
juncts all forgotten.


At first Bella or Winnie had borne me
company, but I think they saw my long
ing to be alone; and I had my way, not
without many cautions from my aunt.


What were perils to me, chafng