me with unaffected astonishment," remarked the hermit, as he
refolded the letter and placed it in his bosom. "He appears delighted to
learn that Willie Danforth, of whom he has heard me speak so
regardfully, is his cousin, and sends much love to him and also to his
new-found aunt."

Mrs. Danforth looked gratified at these words, as did also Willie.

"I am sure I want to see him very much," said the latter. "When is he
coming home, uncle?"

"In summer, when the woods are green, he says," returned the hermit; "he
is now taking sketches in the vicinity of Richmond, Va."

"Was his father an artist?" asked Mrs. D.

"Yes," answered the recluse. "I well remember where sister Fanny first
met him, and how quick a wild, deep love grew out of the romantic
adventure. It was a few months after we left this country--I to forget
in travel my cankering sorrows, she to companion my wanderings. How it
affects me now to think that we left you in suffering poverty without
even a kind good-by! Our shares in the estate of our deceased parents
furnished us with funds for travel, while yours had been squandered by a
dissolute man. But we should have given you of ours to alleviate your
wants and distresses. Fanny often told me so; but my worst passions were
roused by the misfortune I conceived you had helped to bring upon me,
and I would not hear her pleadings in your behalf. What a hard-hearted
wretch I have been!"

The hermit paused and covered his face.

Willie looked from his uncle to his mother, and at length approached
him. "Do not fall into one of your gloomy reveries," said he; "tell us
more of Edgar's mother."

"Ay, yes," said the hermit, rousing himself; "I was speaking of her
first meeting with her future husband. It was among the ruins of the
Eternal City. She had wandered forth by herself one day, and,
intoxicated by the scenes that met her eye on every hand, roamed so far
that when the shades of night began to fall, she discovered herself in
the midst of gloomy, crumbling walls and tottering columns, without
knowing whither to direct her steps. While she stood indeterminate, a
gentleman approached, and kindly inquired if she had lost her way. She
answered in the affirmative, and he offered to escort her home. I
remember how glowing bright was her face that night, as she came
bounding up the steps of our habitation, and presented the 'young artist
she had found beneath the walls of Rome,' as she termed her companion,
and