peaceful in storm than in sunshine. I remembered that now. A movement of
life instantly began in her when the obligation of gladness had departed
with the light. Her own being arose to provide for its own needs. She could
smile now when nature required from her no smile in response to hers. And I
could not help saying to myself, "She must marry a poor man some day; she
is a creature of the north, and not of the south; the hot sun of prosperity
would wither her up. Give her a bleak hill-side, and a glint or two of
sunshine between the hailstorms, and she will live and grow; give her
poverty and love, and life will be interesting to her as a romance; give
her money and position, and she will grow dull and haughty. She will
believe in nothing that poet can sing or architect build. She will, like
Cassius, scorn her spirit for being moved to smile at anything."

I had stood regarding her for a moment. She turned and saw me, and came
forward with her usual morning greeting.

"I beg your pardon, papa: I thought it was Walter."

"I am glad to see a smile on your face, my love."

"Don't think me very disagreeable, papa. I know I am a trouble to you. But
I am a trouble to myself first. I fear I have a discontented mind and a
complaining temper. But I do try, and I will try hard to overcome it."

"It will not get the better of you, so long as you do the duty of the
moment. But I think, as I told you before, that you are not very well, and
that your indisposition is going to do you good by making you think about
some things you are ready to think about, but which you might have banished
if you had been in good health and spirits. You are feeling as you never
felt before, that you need a presence in your soul of which at least you