g her fingers into the
gourd, which hung at the side of the distaff, while at the same time she
stooped down and moistened the fibres, by slipping them through her
mouth, as it glided over the dwindling flax.

Helen, wrapped in yellow flannel from head to feet, with her little
white face peeping above, looked not unlike a pearl in golden setting. A
muslin night-cap perched on the top of her head, below which her hair
frisked about in defiance of comb or ribbon. The cheek next to the fire
was of a burning red, the other perfectly colorless. Her eyes, which
always looked larger and darker by night than by day, were fixed on Miss
Thusa's face with a mixture of reverence and admiration, which its
external lineaments did not seem to justify. The outline of that face
was grim, and the hair, profusely sprinkled with the ashes of age, was
combed back from the brow, in the fashion of the Shakers, adding much to
the rigid expression of the features. A pair of dark-rimmed spectacles
bestrided her forehead midway, appearing more for ornament than use.
Never did Nature provide a more convenient resting-place for
twin-glasses, than the ridge of Miss Thusa's nose, which rose with a
sudden, majestic elevation, suggesting the idea of unexpectedness in the
mind of the beholder. Every thing was harsh about her face, except the
eyes, which had a soft, solemn, misty look, a look of prophecy, mingled
with kindness and compassion, as if she pitied the evils her
far-reaching vision beheld, but which she had not the power to avert.
Those soft, solemn, prophetic eyes had the power of fascination on the
imagination of the young Helen, and night after night she would creep to
her side, after her mother had prepared her for bed, heard her little
Protestant _pater noster_, and left her, as she supposed, just ready to
sink into the deep slumbers of childhood. She did not know the strange
influence which was acting so powerfully on the mind of her child, _or_
rather she did not seem to be aware that her child was old enough to
receive impressions, deep and lasting as life itself.

Miss Thusa was a relic of antiquity, bequeathed by destiny to the
neighborhood in which she dwelt,--a lone woman, without a single known
relative or connection. Though the title of Aunt is generally given to
single ladies, who have passed the meridian of their days, irrespective
of the claims of consanguinity, no one dared to call her Aunt Thusa, so
great was her antipathy