r 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 ferryman; 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
shadow, 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 thick together; and there were some
royal great elms near the house. The fiery red faded from the high
windows as we came near the shore, and cousin Agnes was ready to meet
me; and when she put her arms round me as kindly as my mother would
have done, and kissed me twice in my father's fashion, was sure that I
loved her, and would be contented. Her hair was very gray; but she did
not look, after all, so very old. Her face was a grave one, as if she
had had many cares; yet they had all made her stronger, and there had
been some sweetness, and something to be glad about, and to thank God
for, in every sorrow. I had a feeling always that she was my sure
defence and guard. I was safe and comfortable with her: it was the
same feeling which one learns to have toward God more and more, as one
grows older.

We went in through a wide hall, and up stairs, through a long passage,
to my room, which was in a corner of one of the gables. Two windows
looked on the garden and the river: another looked across to the other
gable, and into the square, grassy court between. It was a rambling,
great house, and seemed like some English houses I h