d during this year of my life, and when the
beads upon my rosary of years numbered twenty-two, it seemed hardly a
day since I had counted twenty-one. How little time from one birthday to
another, and in childhood how long the time between!

I was growing older, and the days challenged each other in their
swiftness, but they were all pleasant to me, even though the church-bell
often tolled the passing of souls, and the quiet of our hills was broken
by the ringing of improvement's hammer as it fell on the anvil of our
possessions. Long lines of streets passed through the meadow-lands, and
where, in less level places, rocks and stones were in the path, the
power of inventive genius was applied and the victory gained. Some of
our people felt it keenly. To father it was an advantage, but to Aunt
Hildy, the opposite.

"Goin' to pass right through my nest, Mr. Minot, and I tell you it aint
so easy to think of that spot of ground as a grave-yard. 'Twont be
nothin' else to me, never. Oh, the years I bury there!"

Father ventured to suggest remuneration.

"No, no, nothin' can't pay; they don't know it, Mr. Minot, but it's a
bitter pill." And a shadow overspread her resolute features. She
determined on making our house her home "forever and a day arter" she
said, and bore it as patiently as she could; but I saw great drops fall
from her eyes as she looked over to that little home and watched its
demolition. She said she had prayed for a strong wind to do the work,
but this was not granted. My own heart leaped to my throat in sympathy,
but knowing her so well I said nothing.

Louis was more than busy. I wondered when my birthday came if he would
remember it. He did, and all the evening of that day we sat together and
talked of our future.

"Emily, I am feeling glad to-night; my heart sings loud for joy. You
cannot think how beautiful you have grown in my eyes; even though you
filled my heart long days ago, that heart-room does expand with growth,
and your queenly beauty still fills it to completeness. Let your hair
fall over your shoulders; look out over the future days with your
speaking eyes as if you were a picture, my Emily." And as he said this
my shell-comb was in his hand and my long and heavy hair lay about me
like a mantle. He liked to see it so, and I sat as if receiving a
blessed benediction.

"Can you see nothing before you?" he asked.

"Mists, like drapery curtains, shade the days," I said: "What is it you
wo