Chapter XXVII

ECHOING FOOTSTEPS

A

wonderful corner for echoes, it has been remarked, that

corner where the Doctor lived. Ever busily winding the

golden thread which bound her husband, and her father,

and herself, and her old directress and companion, in a life of

quiet bliss, Lucie sat in the still house on the tranquilly resounding

corner, listening to the echoing footsteps of years.

At first, there were times, though she was a perfectly happy

young wife, when her work would slowly fall from her hands, and

her eyes would be dimmed. For, there was something coming in

the echoes, something light, afar off, and scarcely audible yet, that

stirred her heart too much. Fluttering hopes and doubtshopes,

of a love as yet unknown to her: doubts, of her remaining upon

earth, to enjoy that new delightdivided her breast. Among the

echoes then, there would arise the sound of footsteps at her own

early grave; and thoughts of the husband who would be left so

desolate, and who would mourn for her so much, swelled to her

eyes, and broke like waves.

That time passed, and her little Lucie lay on her bosom. Then,

among the advancing echoes, there was the tread of her tiny feet

and the sound of her prattling words. Let greater echoes resound

as they would, the young mother at the cradle side could always

hear those coming. They