But I was always fast asleep at those
times.
It was a relief to me when the season came to an end, and we
went to New York to make purchases before turning southward. I
had once hoped, that this time, the year's end, might see my
father and mother come home again. That hope had faded and
died a natural death a long while ago. Letters spoke my
father's health not restored; he was languid and spiritless
and lacked vigour; he would try the air of Switzerland; lie
would spend the winter in the Pyren?es! If that did not work
well, my mother hinted, perhaps he would have to try the
effect of a long sea voyage. Hope shrunk into such small
dimensions that it filled but a very little corner of my
heart. Indeed, for the present I quite put it by and did not
look at it. One winter more must pass, at any rate, and maybe
a full year, before I could possibly see my father and mother
at home. I locked the door for the present upon hope; and
turned my thoughts to what things I had left with me. Chiefest
of all theses were my poor friends at Magnolia.
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