gainst the far-off sky, endeared
themselves to her heart, weakening her allegiance to the barren country of
her birth and binding her to this other home by the magic of their
enchantment.

Here was the spot where her forefathers had lived and toiled. Here were
the orchards they had planted, the fields they had tilled, the streams
they had fished, the hills they had climbed; and here was the house built
by their hands, the chairs in which they had rested, the beds in which
they had slept. Her former life had contained none of these elements of
permanence. On the contrary, much of the time she had been a nomad, the
mining settlements that gave her shelter being frankly regarded as
temporary halting places to be abandoned whenever their usefulness should
become exhausted.

But here, with the everlasting hills as a foundation, was a home that had
been and should be. Tradition breathed from the very soil, and Lucy's
veneration for the past was deep-rooted. Therefore, despite her aunt's
acrimonious disposition, the opposition of their ideals, despite drudgery
and loneliness, she stayed on, praying each day for increased patience and
struggling to magnify every trace of virtue she could discover in Ellen.

Now that the planting was done, the weeding well in hand, the
house-cleaning finished, the girl contrived to so systematize her work
that she should have intervals of leisure to escape into the sunshine and,
beneath the vastness of the arching heaven, forget for the time being at
least all that was rasping and petty.

It was absurd to be lonely when on every hand Nature's voices spoke with
understanding. Was she joyous? The birds caroled, the leaves danced, the
brook sang. Was she sad? The whisper of the great pines brought peace and
balm to her spirit.

It was in search of this sympathy that she had set forth along the highway
to-day. The late afternoon was a poem of mystic clouds and mysterious
shadows. Far off against the distant horizon, mountains veiled in mists
lifted majestic peaks into the air, their summits lost amid swiftly
traveling masses of whiteness; rifts of purple haze lengthened over the
valley; and the fields, dotted with haycocks, breathed forth the perfume
of drying grass.

As Lucy walked along she began singing softly to herself. Her day's work
was done; and her aunt, who had driven with Tony to bring home a load of
lumber from the sawmill, would not return until late in the evening. Six
delicious