Silence
brooded over them; while to Carry it seemed the lady in the picture
looked as if with recognition in her eyes. How delicate, how aerial
she seemed! yet real, and true. Was it any wonder uncle Paul was so
good, having had the companionship of such a spirit so many years? And
as she looked, the stately frame seemed to open, and the lady to come
down from her place and seat herself on the other arm of uncle Paul's
chair, and to lay her head on his shoulder.
"To do good was her aim, Carry; may it be yours," said uncle Paul, and
the spell was broken.
A Sabbath In Lausanne.
After a long journey we arrived at the head of the lake of Geneva, by
far the most interesting portion of this sheet of water. The mountains
on the left of the valley are extremely wild and majestic, and at
their feet, close on the borders of the lake, is the little village
where I had promised to spend the Sabbath with my old friend Wagner.
The sun had gone down, but a rosy flush tinged the clouds and lingered
about the tops of the mountains.
The walk was not long to the parsonage, a low rambling cottage, with
deep windows and overhanging roof, embowered in trees and fragrant
with the breath of flowers. All this we took in at a look, and without
any break in the talk, taking us back as it did to the day when we
bade good-by to the college and its professors, and shook hands with
each other for the last time. Looking into Wagner's face it did not
seem so long ago; while I, floating round the world, had gathered
experience enough to make me feel, if not look, something older.
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