“I hope that hag will be no constant visitor at your future residence, Madeline,” said the younger sister; “it would be like a blight on the air.” “And if we could remove her from the parish,” said Lester, “it would be a happy day for the village. Yet, strange as it may seem, so great is her power over them all, that there is never a marriage, nor a christening in the village, from which she is absent--they dread her spite and foul tongue enough, to make them even ask humbly for her presence.” “And the hag seems to know that her bad qualities are a good policy, and obtain more respect than amiability would do,” said Ellinor. “I think there is some design in all she utters.” “I don’t know how it is, but the words and sight of that woman have struck a damp into my heart,” said Madeline, musingly. “It would be wonderful if they had not, child,” said Lester, soothingly; and he changed the conversation to other topics. As concluding their walk, they re-entered the village, they encountered that most welcome of all visitants to a country village, the postman--a tall, thin pedestrian, famous for swiftness of foot, with a cheerful face, a swinging gait, and Lester’s bag slung over his shoulder. Our little party quickened their pace--one letter--for Madeline--Aram’s handwriting. Happy blush--bright smile! Ah! no meeting ever gives the delight that a letter can inspire in the short absences of a first love “And none for me,” said Lester, in a disappointed tone, and Ellinor’s hand hung more heavily on his arm, and her step moved slower. “It is very strange in Walter; but I am more angry than alarmed.” “Be sure,” said Ellinor, after a pause, “that it is not his fault. Something may have happened to him. Good Heavens! if he has been attacked again--those fearful highwaymen!” “Nay,” said Lester, “the most probable supposition after all is, that he will not write until his expectations are realized or destroyed. Natural enough, too; it is what I should have done, if I had been in his place.” “Natural,” said Ellinor, who now attacked where she before defended--“Natural not to give us one line, to say he is well and safe--natural; I could not have been so remiss!” “Ay, child, you women are so fond of writing,--‘tis not so with us, especially when we are moving about: it is always--‘Well, I must write to-morrow--well, I must write when this is settled--well, I must write when I arrive at such a place;’--and, meanwhile, time slips on, till perhaps we get ashamed of writing at all. I heard a great man say once, that ‘Men must have something effeminate about them to be good correspondents;’ and ‘faith, I think it’s true enough on the whole.” “I wonder if Madeline thinks so?” said Ellinor, enviously glancing at her sister’s absorption, as, lingering a little behind, she devoured the contents of her letter.