"Why, my dear child," said she, as if struck at once by my girlish figure and pallid face, "you must have been lonely here to-day, and you need a mother to nurse and take care of you after your long journey. My name is Warner, and I am going to take you home with me, if you will go. My brother called this morning, and my husband would have accompanied me, but he was very busy; and I was so fearful that you would be homesick, that I thought I would come and introduce myself." My heart bounded with delight, and I could hardly speak for gratitude; and I said so little, and that in such a blundering way, that I was afraid she would not know how much relief she had brought me. "Come, my dear, get your bonnet," said she pleasantly, "and I will send for your baggage." I obeyed, and in a few minutes we stopped at a large but neat residence, almost hid in a profusion of shrubbery. The climbing multiflora rose covered one side of the house, and, with welcome intrusiveness, peeped into the chamber windows, while a honeysuckle and woodbine threw their mantle of green over the door, and mingled their blossoms with those of a tall snowball tree, which had grown high, and, clinging to the house, showered a white welcome upon every corner. A few steps from the house, on the right side, but in the same enclosure, was a small brick office;--on the other side a cottage, shaded by two large beech trees, children of the forest, spared by some merciful woodman when the land was cleared. Such was the outward appearance of my new home--a word as to its inmates. My companion ushered me into a small sitting-room, prettily furnished, and occupied at the time by two persons,--one a tall, white-haired old gentleman, with spectacles on nose, reading the newspaper--the other Mrs. Travis, a young widow, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Warner, who had returned again to the home of her youth. She was sewing as we entered, but, laying aside her work, rose to greet us. Her countenance was plain, but a pair of sparkling black eyes gave animation and expression to her features; and, as I returned her salutation, I thought her welcome not quite so cordial as her mother's. It seemed to express this--"Whether you and I like each other will depend on circumstances." But the old gentleman looked at me for an instant over his spectacles; then, laying them aside with his paper, rose, and taking my hand, welcomed me to the West with a hearty greeting; then, placing a chair near to his own, begged me to be seated. His whole countenance was expressive of goodness; and, as I sat down by his side in all the timidity of a girlish stranger, I felt, for the first time since leaving home, a delicious sense of security and peace. It seemed as if the wing of some guardian angel was over me, and a refuge opened in time of sorrow.