When Sophie left the Hall, Hagar, according to her promise, tamed her heart of fire and gave every gentle attention to her provoking uncle, who was now in one of his morose fits by reason of Sophie’s absence, and therefore was very hard to be satisfied. A week passed away, during which Hagar’s short stock of patience was nearly exhausted by receiving in return for all her attention cold looks, short replies, and half-suppressed grumblings—the dark sky and muttering thunder of an approaching storm. Affairs were in this state at the Hall when the day of Sophie’s expected return arrived. The packet usually put out a little boat and landed passengers for the Hall upon the beach under the promontory. Early in the afternoon, Hagar’s falcon eye descrying a sail upon the bay, she ran down to the promontory, sped down the rocky declivity with the agility and swiftness of a kid, and stood upon the sunny beach to await its approach. The packet swiftly approached, stopped opposite the promontory, and a boat put out from her side, and was swiftly rowed to the beach. Hagar sprang to meet her aunt, who stepped upon the sand, leading a little girl of about three years of age, dressed in deep mourning. Hagar had sprang up into Sophie’s arms and given her a quick embrace, when the latter putting her down, said—“Kiss your cousin, Hagar.” “Yes, kiss me, Hagar,” said the little one, “kiss me, love me—I’ve got no mother.” And the large bright tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. Hagar caressed her as a kitten might caress a young dove, with its claws out. And the soft sensitive pet half evaded her wire-like clasp. “Oh! she is a city baby, used to be nursed by _white_ nurses, and to step her little soft feet upon pavements, and to play with dolls in dressing-rooms; she shrinks from me, whose play-grounds are the forest, rocks, and waters—and whose toys are bows, arrows, and guns.” And Hagar bent forward and gazed with her keen eyes into the face of the timid child as they walked side by side towards the ascent of the cliff. Here even Sophie’s hand afforded little assistance to the unpractised feet of the infant as she toiled up the steep and dangerous cliff, glancing with terror at the sharp projecting points of the rocks sticking up ready to impale her soft form if she missed her footing. Hagar gazed at the little frightened toiler, half in pity, half in amusement, until suddenly the devil leaped into the eyes of the wild child, and seizing her cousin, she swung her upon her shoulder, and springing from the spot with the bound of a kid, scarcely touching the points of the rocks with her light feet, she flew up the steep knobs of the cliff—while Rose clung to her neck in deadly terror, and Sophie raised her hands in awe-struck astonishment. Arrived at the top safe, she set her down, panting, and tenderly as she knew how soothed her alarm. But from that moment through all her after life, Rosalia feared and shrank from Hagar.