Christian life -- Fiction; Conduct of life -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Spring brought new occupation; household labours began to increase in
number and measure; her leisure times were shortened. But pleasures were
increased too. When the snow went off, and spring-like days began to
come, and birds' notes were heard again, and the trees put out their
young leaves, and the brown mountains were looking soft and green,
Ellen's heart bounded at the sight. The springing grass was lovely to
see; dandelions were marvels of beauty; to her each wild wood flower was
a never-to-be-enough admired and loved wonder. She used to take long
rambles with Mr. Van Brunt when business led him to the woods,
sometimes riding part of the way on the ox-sled. Always a basket for
flowers went along; and when the sled stopped, she would wander all
around seeking among the piled-up dead leaves for the white wind-flower,
and pretty little hang-head uvularia, and delicate blood-root, and the
wild geranium and columbine; and many others the names of which she did
not know. They were like friends to Ellen; she gathered them
affectionately as well as admiringly into her little basket, and seemed
to purify herself in their pure companionship. Even Mr. Van Brunt came
to have an indistinct notion that Ellen and flowers were made to be
together. After he found what a pleasure it was to her to go on these
expeditions, he made it a point, whenever he was bound to the woods of a
fine day, to come to the house for her. Miss Fortune might object as she
pleased; he always found an answer; and at last Ellen, to her great joy,
would be told, "Well! go get your bonnet and be off with yourself." Once
under the shadow of the big trees, the dried leaves crackling beneath
her feet, and alone with her kind conductor, and Miss Fortune and all in
the world that was disagreeable was forgotten--forgotten, no more to be
remembered till the walk should come to an end. And it would have
surprised anybody to hear the long conversations she and Mr. Van Brunt
kept up, he, the silentest man in Thirlwall! Their talk often ran upon
trees, among which Mr. Van Brunt was at home. Ellen wanted to become
acquainted with them, as well as with the little flowers that grew at
their feet; and he tried to teach her how to know each separate kind by
the bark, and leaf, and manner of growth. The pine and hemlock and fir
were easily learnt; the white birch too; beyond those at first she was
perpetually confounding one with another. Mr. Van Brunt had to go over
and over his instructions; never weary, always vastly amused. Pleasant
lessons these were! Ellen thought so, and Mr. Van Brunt thought so too.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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