far milder among
the New England hills, and in the vicinity of Snowdon, whither our story
now tends, was scarcely noticed, save as an ordinary winter's storm. As
yet it had been comparatively warmer in New England than in Kentucky;
and Miss Anna Richards, confirmed invalid though she was, had decided
that inasmuch as Terrace Hill mansion now boasted a furnace in the
cellar, it would hardly be necessary to take her usual trip to the
South, so comfortable was she at home, in her accustomed chair, with her
pretty crimson shawl wrapped gracefully around her. Besides that, they
were expecting her Brother John from Paris, where he had been for the
last eighteen months, pursuing his medical profession, and she must be
there to welcome him.

Anna was proud of her young, handsome brother, as were the entire
family, for on him and his success in life all their future hopes were
pending. Aside from being proud, Anna was also very fond of John,
because as all were expected to yield to her wishes, she had never been
crossed by him, and because he was nearer to her own age, and had
evidently preferred her to either of his more stately sisters, Miss
Asenath and Miss Eudora, whose birthdays were very far distant from his.

John had never been very happy at home--never liked Snowdon much, and
hence the efforts they were putting forth to make it attractive to him
after his long absence. He could not help but like home now, the ladies
said to each other, as, a few days before his arrival, they rode from
the village, where they had been shopping, up the winding terraced hill,
admiring the huge stone building embosomed in evergreens, and standing
out so distinctly against the wintry sky. And indeed Terrace Hill
mansion was a very handsome place, exciting the envy and admiration of
the villagers, who, while commenting upon its beauty and its well-kept
grounds, could yet remember a time when it had looked better even than
it did now--when the house was oftener full of city company, of
sportsmen who came up to hunt, and fish, and drink, as it was sometimes
hinted by the servants, of whom there was then a greater number than at
present--when high-born ladies rode up and down in carriages, or dashed
on horseback through the park and off into the leafy woods--when sounds
of festivity were heard in the halls from year's end to year's end, and
the lights in the parlors were rarely extinguished, or the fires on the
hearth put out. All this was duri