I must send word to the patrons of the school that I had arrived: and fearful that their expectations would be disappointed, I could not sleep. The next morning I despatched a messenger, and two of the trustees called. They were polite, but said little, excepting what related to business; but when they left me, remarked, "We will procure a more agreeable home for you than this." I thanked them with my lips, but they little comprehended how earnestly the heart craved for a home again. The day passed, and I saw no one till the twilight shadows were creeping into that lonely room, and with them also dim visions of home and friends, bringing with them that sad heart-longing which the young feel during their first absence from home, when I was startled from my reverie by a gentle knock at my door. I opened it, and an old lady stood before me, so kind, so motherly in her appearance, and so plainly yet tastefully dressed, that my heart clung to her at first sight. If my Father in heaven had sent an angel to me, I should certainly have chosen just such a face and garb, in my present condition, rather than the white robes and bright-winged cherubs of Raphael's glorious fancy.
"Why, my dear child," said she, as if struck at once by my girlish figure and pallid face, "you must have been lonely here to-day, and you need a mother to nurse and take care of you after your long journey. My name is Warner, and I am going to take you home with me, if you will go. My brother called this morning, and my husband would have accompanied me, but he was very busy; and I was so fearful that you would be homesick, that I thought I would come and introduce myself."
My heart bounded with delight, and I could hardly speak for gratitude; and I said so little, and that in such a blundering way, that I was afraid she would not know how much relief she had brought me.
"Come, my dear, get your bonnet," said she pleasantly, "and I will send for your baggage."
I obeyed, and in a few minutes we stopped at a large but neat residence, almost hid in a profusion of shrubbery. The climbing multiflora rose covered one side of the house, and, with welcome intrusiveness, peeped into the chamber windows, while a honeysuckle and woodbine threw their mantle of green over the door, and mingled their blossoms with those of a tall snowball tree, which had grown high, and, clinging to the house, showered a white welcome upon every corner. A few steps from the house, on the right side, but in the same enclosure, was a small brick office;--on the other side a cottage, shaded by two large beech trees, children of the forest, spared by some merciful woodman when the land was cleared. Such was the outward appearance of my new home--a word as to its inmates. My companion ushered me into a small sitting-room, prettily furnished, and occupied at the time by two persons,--one a tall, white-haired old gentleman, with spectacles on nose, reading the newspaper--the other Mrs. Travis, a young widow, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Warner, who had returned again to the home of her youth. She was sewing as we entered, but, laying aside her work, rose to greet us. Her countenance was plain, but a pair of sparkling black eyes gave animation and expression to her features; and, as I returned her salutation, I thought her welcome not quite so cordial as her mother's. It seemed to express this--"Whether you and I like each other will depend on circumstances." But the old gentleman looked at me for an instant over his spectacles; then, laying them aside with his paper, rose, and taking my hand, welcomed me to the West with a hearty greeting; then, placing a chair near to his own, begged me to be seated. His whole countenance was expressive of goodness; and, as I sat down by his side in all the timidity of a girlish stranger, I felt, for the first time since leaving home, a delicious sense of security and peace. It seemed as if the wing of some guardian angel was over me, and a refuge opened in time of sorrow.