into words,' replied the mountain nymph, laughing, but avoiding his eye.

All this was said apart. Perhaps a germ of love was springing in their
hearts, so pure that it might blossom in Paradise, since it could not be
matured on earth; for women worship such gentle dignity as his; and
the proud, contemplative, yet kindly soul is oftenest captivated by
simplicity like hers. But while they spoke softly, and he was watching
the happy sadness, the lightsome shadows, the shy yearnings of a
maiden's nature, the wind through the Notch took a deeper and drearier
sound. It seemed, as the fanciful stranger said, like the choral strain
of the spirits of the blast, who in old Indian times had their dwelling
among these mountains, and made their heights and recesses a sacred
region. There was a wail along the road, as if a funeral were passing.
To chase away the gloom, the family threw pine branches on their fire,
till the dry leaves crackled and the flame arose, discovering once again
a scene of peace and humble happiness. The light hovered about them
fondly, and caressed them all. There were the little faces of the
children, peeping from their bed apart, and here the father's frame of
strength, the mother's subdued and careful mien, the high-browed youth,
the budding girl, and the good old grandam, still knitting in the
warmest place. The aged woman looked up from her task, and, with fingers
ever busy, was the next to speak.

'Old folks have their notions,' said she, 'as well as young ones. You've
been wishing and planning; and letting your heads run on one thing and
another, till you've set my mind a wandering too. Now what should an old
woman wish for, when she can go but a step or two before she comes to
her grave? Children, it will haunt me night and day till I tell you.'

'What is it, mother?' cried the husband and wife at once.