he old trout who lived under it
has taken as good care of himself during my absence as he did before I
went away. And there is the willow grove, too, which I wish very much
to see."

"It has been cut down."

"Cut down!--what for?"

"Mr. Bullard thought it interfered with his prospect."

"Why did you not interfere, cousin?" turning to Emily.

"It was nothing to me what he did with his grove," said Emily.

"Oh, I had forgotten--" George did not finish the sentence. He turned
the conversation to some of the ordinary topics of the day.

After breakfast, he set out for Willow Brook, and seated himself upon
the white rock. The years that had passed since in childhood he sat
upon that rock, were reviewed by him. Though he had met with trials
and temptations, yet he was thankful that he could return to that rock
with so many of the feelings of childhood; that his heart's best
emotions had not been polluted by the world, but were as yet pure as
the crystal stream before him.

When he rose from that rock, instead of visiting the other haunts of
his early days, he found himself moving toward the village. Now and
then a familiar face was seen. By those who recognized him, he was
warmly greeted. It was not until he met a stranger that he inquired
for the residence of the widow and her niece. He was directed to a
small dwelling in a narrow lane. He knocked at the open door. The
widow, who was busily employed in smoothing the white linen before
her, bade him enter, but paused not from her work.

"Is Eliza at home?" said Mason.

"Who can you be that want to see Eliza?" said the poor woman, still
not lifting her eyes from her work.

"I am an old friend of hers," said Mason.

"A friend! a friend!" said she, pausing and looking upward, as if
striving to recall the idea belonging to the word. "Yes, she had
friends once--where have they gone?"

Again she plied her task, as if unconscious of his presence. He seated
himself and watched her countenance, which revealed so sad a history.
Her lips kept moving, and now and then she spoke aloud. "Poor girl! a
hard life has she had--it may all be right, but I can't see how; and
now she might be a lady if she would leave her poor, half-crazy aunt."
Her whispers were then inaudible. Soon she turned to Mason and said,
as if in reply to a question, "No, I never heard her complain. When
those she used to visit don't know her, and look the other way when
they meet her, she never complains