Hildegarde's Holiday

regular walks, instead of strolling a little way, leaning on her friend's stronger arm. Together the girls explored all the pleasant places of the neighborhood, w

on and on, between high, dark banks of hemlock and pine and white birch. Here were cardinal-flowers, more than they had ever seen before, rank behind rank, all crowding down to the water's edge to see their beauty mirrored in the clear, dark stream. They were too beautiful to pick. But Hildegarde too

d Hildegarde. "Have we

to have picked his flower. This is certainly a fairy place! Move on, o

f a fallen tree, whose upturned roots made a most comfortable armchair, all tapestried with emerald moss. She looked about her with great content; counted the different kinds of moss growing within immediate reach, and found six; tried to decide which was the prettiest, and finding this impossible, ga

green, gol

ass that was

s to her gras

gold in her

the place, yet all was in perfect order; all looked fresh and well cared for, as if the occupants had gone for a walk or drive, and might return at any moment. A drive? Hark! was not that the sound of wheels, even at this moment, on the neat gravel-path? Rose drew back instinctively, letting the branches close in front of her. Yet, she thought, there could be no harm in her peeping just for a moment, to see who these forest-dwellers might be. A fairy prince? a queenly maiden in gold and green? Laughing at her own thoughts, she leaned forward to peep through the leafy screen. What was her astonishment when round the corner came the familiar head of Dr. Abernethy, with the carryall behind him, Jeremiah driving, and Mis

she stole back to her tree-trunk, and was presently joined by Hildegarde, flushed and radiant, with the butterfly safe in her plant-box, a quick and merciful pinch having

s to account for it. It may be the house of some one who has gone away and asked Cousin Wealthy to come and look at it occasi

sing. "Come home; it is a

forgetting to look for maiden-hair, w

r some consultation, they decided that there would be no harm in asking Martha about it. If she put them off, or seemed

about it. There was a little mahogany table that might have done duty as a looking-glass, and indeed did reflect the wonderful bouquet of wax flowers that adorned it; a hair-cloth rocking-chair, and a comfortable wooden one with a delightful creak, without which Martha would not have felt at

garde. "We have brought our work, and

d to see you,-if you can make yourselves comfo

ha-" She hesitated a moment, and Rose shrank back and made a little deprecatory movement with her hand; but Hildegarde was not to be stopped. "Martha, we have seen the house in the wood. We jus

-case for some minutes, while the girls waited with outward patience. At last, "I don't know why I shouldn't tell you, y

said at last, "belongs to Miss Bond. It was built just fifty years ago by the young man she was going to m

out here (his people were from Castine, and had French blood) he met Miss Bond, and they fell in love with each other at sight, as they say. She lived here in this same house with her father (her m

lda; and her eyes would shine and sparkle, and she'd clap her hands like a child, and run down to the wharf to meet him. Standing there, with her lovely hair blowing about in the wind, she would look more like a spirit, Mary would say, than a mortal person. Then when the boat touched the wharf, she would hold out her little hands to help him up; and he, so strong and tall, was glad to be helped, just to touch her hand. And so they would come up to the house together, holding of hands, like two happy children. And full of play they was, tossing flowers about and singing and laughing, all for the joy of being together, as you may say; and she always with a pansy for his button-hole the first thing; and he looking down so proud and loving while she fastened it in. And most times

getting on in years, and she his only child. He furnished it beautiful, every room like a best parlor,-carpets and sofys and lace curt'ins,-there was nothing too good.

weetheart at the usual time of his coming, about three o'clock in the afternoon. The morning had been fine, but the weather seemed to be coming up bad, Mary thought; and old Mr. Bond thought so,

y black cloud was coming over, and un

s the boat now, coming round the bend.' And there, sure enough, came the white sailboat, flying along as if she was alive, old Mary said. Miss Wealthy ran out on the lawn and waved her handkerchief, and they saw the young man stand up in the boat and wave his in return.

m!" cried Hildegarde,

an, and wave to her, and in that moment it came. He hadn't time to clear himself, and was tangled in the ropes, and held down by the sail. Oh, don't

ing, and Hildegarde could not speak,

bed, and they thought she would never leave it. But folks don't often die that way, Miss Hilda and Miss Rose. Trouble is for us to live through, not to die by; and she got well, and comforted her father, and by and by she learned how to smile again, though that was not for a long time. The poor gentleman had made a will, giving the new house to her, and all he had; for he had no near kin living. Mr. Bond wanted her to sell it; but, oh! she wouldn't hear to it. All these years-fifty long years, Miss Hilda!-she has kept that house in apple-pie ord

t is all the story of the house in the wood. And you'll not let it make you too sad, seeing 't was the Lord's doing; and

they could hardly bear the pain of sympathy, of tender pity, that filled their young hearts. They could not understand how there could ever be rallying from such

e good lady was quite distressed. "My dear Rose," she said, "you look very pale and tired. I am quite sure you must have walked too far to-day. You would better go to bed very early, my dear, and Martha shall

nd after tea Hildegarde read "Bleak House" aloud, and then they h