“He will be gentle and great like you. He reminds me of what you were at his age, when you used to carry me about the forest in your arms, as joyous as a boy, yet as careful as a woman. I thought of that when he talked about his sister. Magnus, I used to feel as if I should so love to have a sister or to be a sister. There is such a sweet and tender thought in sisterhood—children of the same mother. Just now I thought that boy’s voice took a tone of modulated sweetness when he spoke of his sister. Yet his very gentleness must be the playfulness of a lion’s cub—there is such fire in his grand eyes, that reminded me of you, too. Oh, Magnus, do you know what I have been thinking of? what great music has been sounding its majestic harmony through my soul this morning as I journey by your side into the wilderness? Listen: “Thy spirit, Independence, let me share, Lord of the lion heart and eagle eye! Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky. “And I feel as if you were that very incarnate spirit of Independence, and I am sure that that boy was the worshiping disciple who was ready to follow you. And as for me, Magnus,” she continued, laughing, “there is such a superfluous amount of energy in my little body and soul this morning, that I feel as if I could not only brave and bear hardships and peril by your side, but should be disappointed if they did not come.” “You have so much resistance, Elsie! but do not do with your wealth of energy as the prodigal son did with his wealth of money, spend it all at the outset; and, as an illustration of what I mean, put your hands within your cloak, and fold it closely around your chest—we are about to turn and face a sharp, if not a violent northwester, and after the sun is fully up you will see that it will blow harder,” said Magnus, as they turned the end of the street and entered the turnpike road. It was a glorious winter day; the sun now arose in cloudless splendor, lighting up the snow-clad hills and plains and ice-spangled forest trees and bushes into flashing, dazzling radiance, while far away behind them dashed and sparkled the green waters of the Chesapeake, like a sea of molten emeralds. Their road, after leaving the village, lay over the snowy hills and plains, and through the forest around the base of Mount Calm. In making the circuit they once came in full view of the front of the mansion house, and Elsie, seizing her husband’s arm, exclaimed: “Magnus, tie your pocket-handkerchief at the end of your stick, and get up and wave it. I know that our beloved mother has been watching at that window for the last hour to see us pass. I know it, though it is too distant to see her distinctly; yet I think I see somebody there. Wave it, Magnus, and then we’ll know.”