Nelly too is nearer now than ever; and with her you have no fears of
your extravagance; you listen delightfully there by the evening flame to
all that she tells you of the neighbors of your boyhood. You shudder
somewhat at her genial praises of the blue-eyed Madge,--a shudder that
you can hardly account for, and which you do not seek to explain. It may
be that there is a clinging and tender memory yet--wakened by the home
atmosphere--of the divided sixpence.
Of your quondam friend, Frank, the pleasant recollection of whom revives
again under the old roof-tree, she tells you very little,--and that
little in a hesitating and indifferent way that utterly surprises you.
Can it be, you think, that there has been some cause of unkindness?
----Clarence is still very young!
The fire glows warmly upon the accustomed hearth-stone, and--save that
vacant place never to be filled again--a home cheer reigns even in this
time of your mourning. The spirit of the lost parent seems to linger
over the remnant of the household; and the Bible upon its stand--the
book she loved so well--the book so sadly forgotten--seems still to open
on you its promises in her sweet tones, and to call you, as it were,
with her angel-voice to the land that she inherits.
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