he river on indifferent subjects chiefly; sharing fruit and
flowers, and general observations and opinions, so that I felt quite
inspirited on my arrival, and made, I have reason to believe, no
unfavorable impression.

My school-girl experiences I shall not record here. They were pleasant
and profitable on the whole, and I earned the esteem of my teachers, by
my zeal and diligence in my studies, and made some few valued friends
more or less permanent, but none so dear as those I left behind.

Laura Stanbury, quiet and uninteresting as she seemed to many, had a
hold on my heart that no newer acquaintance could boast, and for dear
George Gaston, where was there another like him? I have known no one so
gifted, so spiritual, so simply affectionate, as this child of genius
and physical misfortune, whose short but brilliant career is engraven on
the annals of his country, I well believe, indelibly.

When I was fifteen years old, I was recalled suddenly and in the middle
of a busy session to my home, by the severe and almost fatal illness of
my father. He rallied, however, soon after my return, and I had the
inexpressible satisfaction of hearing Dr. Pemberton, our good and
skillful family physician, pronounce him out of danger a week later, but
he would suffer me to go from him no more. The voice of Nature asserted
her claim at last, and, feeling within himself that indescribable
failure of vitality in which no one is ever deceived, and which can
never be explained to or wholly understood by another, he desired me to
remain with him through the remainder of a life which he foresaw would
not be long.

It was in vain that Dr. Pemberton tried to rally him on the score of his
old hypochondriacal tendencies, or that Evelyn quietly remarked: "I am
sure, papa, I never saw you looking better! It is a pity to interrupt
dear Miriam now in the full tide of her studies. I am sure that _I_ am
willing to devote every moment of my time to you if needful;" or that
Mrs. Austin added: "Miriam is so well, and growing so fast, that I am
afraid to see her take on care again, for fear of a check; and now that
Mabel is partly weaned from her they are both happy to be separated;" or
that Mr. Bainrothe carelessly interpolated: "Let the child go back, my
dear Monfort, or you will spoil her again among you. She is developing
splendidly at St. Mark's, and you have twenty good years before you yet,
with your unbroken English constitution."

Not even