e as their own child. Nor was I ungrateful, but repaid
them with a filial reverence and affection.

I did not inherit the fulness of my mother's beauty, but had yet some
traits of her,--the pale, clear skin, the large, black eyes, the glossy
and abundant hair. Here the resemblance ceased. I have heard my uncle
say,--how often!--"Your mother, Juanita, had the most perfect form I
ever saw, except in marble"; all Spanish women, indeed, he told me, had
a full, elastic roundness of shape and limb, rarely seen among our
spare and loose-built nation. I was American in form, at least,--slight
and stooping, with a certain awkwardness, partly to be imputed to my
rapid growth, partly to my shyness and reserve. I was insatiably fond
of reading, little attracted toward society. When my uncle's house, as
often happened, was full of gay company, I withdrew to my own room, and
read my favorite authors in its pleasant solitude. I was ill at ease
with lively, fashionable people,--very much at home with books. Thanks
to my uncle's care, I was well educated, even scholarly, for my age and
sex. My studious habits, far from being discouraged, were praised by
all the household, and I was looked upon as a prodigy of cleverness and
industry.

A widow lady, of the name of Haughton, came to live in the little
cottage near us when I was fifteen years old. She was well-born, but
poor, and had known many sorrows. My aunt, Mrs. Heywood, soon became
interested in her, and took pleasure in offering her those numerous
attentions which a wealthy neighbor can so easily bestow, and which are
so grateful to the recipient. Mrs. Haughton and her sons were frequent
guests at our house; and we, too, spent many pleasant hours in the
vine-covered porch of the cottage. I had few companions, and John and
William Haughton were very welcome to me. They were somewhat older than
I,--John twenty-two, and William two years younger; and I was thus just
able to escape regarding them with that profound contempt which the
girl of fifteen usually feels for "boys." After knowing them awhile I
felt how baseless such contempt would be; for they possessed a depth
and maturity of character rarely seen except in men of much experience.
John was grave and thoughtful; his livelier brother often said he had
come into the world some centuries too late,--that he was meant for an
Augustine or a Pascal, so studious was he, and so saintly. Do not fancy
that he was one of those stiff, besp