fore, and I think, until then, that my mother never had suspected how
much I observed of life and of older people in a certain way; that I
was something more than a little child who went from one interest to
another carelessly. I have known since that my mother's childhood was
much like mine. She, however, was timid, while I had inherited from my
father his fearlessness, and lack of suspicion; and these qualities,
like a fresh wind, swept away any cobwebs of nervous anticipation and
sensitiveness. Every one was kind to me, partly, I think, because I
interfered with no one. I was glad of the kindness, and, with my
unsuspected dreaming and my happy childishness, I had gone through life
with almost perfect contentment, until this pain of my first real
loneliness came into my heart.

It was a day's journey to cousin Matthew's house, mostly by rail;
though, toward the end, we had to travel a considerable distance by
stage, and at last were left on the river-bank opposite my new home,
and I saw a boat waiting to take us across. It was just at sunset, and
I remember wondering if my father and mother were out of sight of land,
and if they were watching the sky; if my father would remember that
only the evening before we had gone out for a walk together, and there
had been a sunset so much like this. It somehow seemed long ago.
Cousin Matthew was busy talking with the ferry-man; and indeed he had
found acquaintances at almost every part of the journey, and had not
been much with me, though he was kind and attentive in his courteous,
old-fashioned way, treating me with the same ceremonious politeness
which he had shown my mother. He pointed out the house to me: it was
but a little way from the edge of the river. It was very large and
irregular, with great white chimneys; and, while the river was all in
shallow [Transcriber's note: shade?], the upper windows of two high
gables were catching the last red glow of the sun. On the opposite
side of a green from the house were the farm-house and buildings; and
the green sloped down to the water, where there was a wharf and an
ancient-looking storehouse. There were some old boats and long sticks
of timber lying on the shore; and I saw a flock of white geese march
solemnly up toward the barns. From the open green I could see that a
road went up the hill beyond. The trees in the garden and orchard were
the richest green; their round tops were clustered thickly together:
and th