ng next to my own impressions, I discovered in my newly-found
relative, a little light-eyed, light-haired, elegant woman; trim, and
bright, and smiling; dressed to perfection, clever to her fingers' ends,
skilled in making herself agreeable--and yet, in spite of these
undeniable fascinations, perfectly incomprehensible to me. After my
experience of foreign society, I was incapable of understanding the
extraordinary importance which my stepmother seemed to attach to rank and
riches, entirely for their own sakes. When she described my unknown
neighbors, from one end of the county to the other, she took it for
granted that I must be interested in them on account of their titles and
their fortunes. She held me up to my own face, as a kind of idol to
myself, without producing any better reason than might be found in my
inheritance of an income of sixteen thousand pounds. And when I expressed
(in excusing myself for not accompanying her, uninvited, to the
dinner-party) a perfectly rational doubt whether I might prove to be a
welcome guest, Mrs. Roylake held up her delicate little hands in
unutterable astonishment. "My dear Gerard, in your position!" She
appeared to think that this settled the question. I submitted in silence;
the truth is, I was beginning already to despair of my prospects. Kind as
my stepmother was, and agreeable as she was, what chance could I see of
establishing any true sympathy between us? And, if my neighbors resembled
her in their ways of thinking, what hope could I feel of finding new
friends in England to replace the friends in Germany whom I had lost? A
stranger among my own country people, with the every-day habits and
every-day pleasures of my youthful life left behind me--without plans or
hopes to interest me in looking at the future--it is surely not wonderful
that my spirits had sunk to their lowest ebb, and that I even failed to
appreciate with sufficient gratitude the fortunate accident of my birth.

Perhaps the journey to England had fatigued me, or perhaps the
controlling influences of the dark and silent night proved irresistible.
This only is certain: my solitary meditations under the tree ended in
sleep.

I was awakened by a light falling on my face.

The moon had risen. In the outward part of the wood, beyond which I had
not advanced, the pure and welcome light penetrated easily through the
scattered trees. I got up and looked about me. A path into the wood now
showed itself, broader