“And this,” burst she forth at length,--“and this is Home! this the dreamland of those far away over the seas,--the cherished spot of all affections,--the quiet nook wherein we breathe an atmosphere of love, blending our lives with all dearest to us. Is it, then, that all is hollow, false, and untrue; or is it that I alone have no part in the happiness that is diffused around me? I know not which would be the sadder!”
Thus, reasoning sadly, she went along, when suddenly, on the slope of a gentle hill in front of her, gracefully encircled with a young wood of larch and copper-beech, she caught sight of the cottage. It was a tasteful imitation of those seen in the Oberland, and with its wild background of lofty mountain, an appropriate ornament to the landscape.
A small stream running over a rocky, broken bed formed the boundary of the little grounds, and over this a bridge of a single plank conducted the way to the cottage. The whole was simple and unpretending; there was none of that smart trimness which gives to such scenes the air of an imitation. The lawn, it is true, was neatly shaven, and the flower-plots, which broke its uniformity, clean from weeds; but the flowers were of the simplest kind,--the crocus and the daffodil had to stand no dangerous rivalry, and the hyacinth had nothing to vie with.
Kate loitered for some time here, now gazing at the wild, stern landscape, now listening to the brawling rivulet, whose sounds were the only ones in the stillness. As she drew nigh the cottage, she found the windows of a little drawing-room open. She looked in: all was comfortable and neat-looking, but of the strictest simplicity. She next turned to the little porch, and pulled the bell; in a few seconds the sounds of feet were heard approaching, and a very old woman, whose appearance and dress were the perfection of neatness, appeared.
“Don't you know me, Mrs. Broon?” said Kate, gently.
“I do not, then, my Lady,” said she, respectfully, “for my eyes is gettin' dimmer every day.”
“I 'm Kate Henderson, Mrs. Broon. Do you forget me?”
“Indeed I do not,” said Catty, gravely. “You were here with the master and my Lady?”
“Yes. I went away with them to Germany; but I have come home for a while, and wish to pay my respects to Miss Mary.”