“And you think you shall not long for the seclusion of Chaillot, and the hymns of the Sisters?” “Oh, I dare say I shall long to see them. But meanwhile I do so long to be with you, and to see something and somebody in the world!” “And you will be my own daughter?” I asked her now more seriously—“do you know how much that implies? If I give you all I shall require much from you.” “Not more than all my heart,” answered she gayly, “and that you shall certainly have.” “Till somebody else asks for it,” said I to myself. The remainder of my stay at Chaillot was cheered by the occasional visits of Claire, but the most of the time she spent at the convent, and among the poor of the village, who loved her and mourned her departure. When at last the vessel bore us both away from France she was deeply affected. I was glad to see it: glad that mere curiosity and interest in novelty had not dulled her heart to one sympathy. Arrived at Boston, we met the kind faces of friends, how kind and how dear, we never feel till an ocean has separated us, and soon found ourselves quietly established at my own residence, as if not a week had passed since I was last there. Claire gained in a northern climate all she needed to make her perfect—strength of body, and consequent strength of mind. She was never weary of the bold natural scenery in which New England abounds, and wandered and climbed till I used to beg her to take care of herself for my sake. All this time I had a plot in my head. For what woman was ever without one? Had I not a son, whose image was seldom absent an hour from my memory, yet whose name I was careful not to mention to Claire? Who could tell what might be in the future, if I did not mar its brightness by my own interference? So I patiently waited the result of accidental influences. I expected Herbert home by the next packet. He had been prevented from meeting me in France, and accompanying us home, by illness, and I had availed myself of the escort of some friends who were coming to America, without waiting for his recovery. We had been returned for more than two months. The autumnal tints already brightened with consumptive red the rich verdure of summer, and the harvest-moon shone out with a calm brilliancy that almost mocked the daily sun. Claire was delighted with Nature under its bold American features. As I watched the daily development of her taste, and delighted to see its refinement and richness, I felt that I could not have desired more in a daughter, than was thrown as it were by the bounty of Providence into my lap.