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stragglers, blasted and broke, clung to each other, their weak boughs
sighing as the wind buffetted them--a weather-beaten crew.
A light railing surrounded the garden of the cottage, which, low-roofed,
seemed to submit to the majesty of nature, and cower amidst the venerable
remains of forgotten time. Flowers, the children of the spring, adorned her
garden and casements; in the midst of lowliness there was an air of
elegance which spoke the graceful taste of the inmate. With a beating heart
I entered the enclosure; as I stood at the entrance, I heard her
voice, melodious as it had ever been, which before I saw her assured me of
her welfare.
A moment more and Perdita appeared; she stood before me in the fresh bloom
of youthful womanhood, different from and yet the same as the mountain girl
I had left. Her eyes could not be deeper than they were in childhood, nor
her countenance more expressive; but the expression was changed and
improved; intelligence sat on her brow; when she smiled her face was
embellished by the softest sensibility, and her low, modulated voice seemed
tuned by love. Her person was formed in the most feminine proportions; she
was not tall, but her mountain life had given freedom to her motions, so
that her light step scarce made her foot-fall heard as she tript across the
hall to meet me. When we had parted, I had clasped her to my bosom with
unrestrained warmth; we met again, and new feelings were awakened; when
each beheld the other, childhood passed, as full grown actors on this
changeful scene. The pause was but for a moment; the flood of association
and natural feeling which had been checked, again rushed in full tide upon
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