Julia (Chapter_4)

but, for all that I don't think he is as handsome as you are, Betty says, you are not to be compared to him.-But I tell Betty, he has not such a handsome soul as you have." "And can you see his soul too?", asked d'Aubigne, drawn in spite of himself to listen to her artless prattle. "Not often", replied the child, & it is because his eyes are always almost shut, & he peeps through them just this way," continued she imitating his down cast look, "What makes me think he is naughty & afraid to let any one look in them. But I would not care how he looked, if he would let me walk with Mama & sit by her as I always used to do- But now when mama rides or walks, sometimes all day long, he asks her leave me at home- & so I don't like him, But I like you, for you always take me with you, when you ride or walk with mama & you let me sit on your knee, while you read to her- & you draw me pictures & tell me stories- And Henry loves you too, & we both want you to stay & live all your life with us & then Mama, won't sit by herself & cry so much- No, indeed, she don't cry half so much since you have been home; & then I will never be naughty, so won't you stay & live with us ?" And again her little arms were clasped round his neck.-D'Aubigne could not reply- he hid his face against her bosom, as he held her clasped to his own, in order to conceal the strong emotion, her narration had excited. At last he gently disengaged himself from her light embrace, & putting her down, promised soon to return & abruptly left her.-

He perused a path which led along the banks of Rock-Creek. He passed the mill & wandered on beneath the high & ever hanging banks, till the pathway growing narrower & narrower, scarcely allowing him a footing on the shelving rocks, he looked around for some sheltered spot, on which he might sit unseen by any passengers some solitude where he might give vent to feelings which almost burst his heart.-He scrambled through the nearly impervious underwood, & at last reached a high rock among the woods, which over hung the stream, that rushed below over its narrow & rocky bed-

her see--But she will make me open them--and sometimes, I am so afraid, I won't open them for a long while--and then she ties me in that high chair, you know the chair I sit in at table, and she makes me sit there till I open my eyes, and then she looks in and finds out all my naughtiness." "But, why is my sweet little girl even naughty"-"Oh I dont know, I didn't use to be naughty when I was always by my dear Mama--but now she locks herself up in her own room, sometimes all the morning, and then I have no one to talk with, no one to play with me, or love me--If I go in the nursery, old mammy nurse, is so cross and won't let me jump, nor sing--then if I am in the parlour, or hall, or drawing room, it is all so still and {lonely?}, and I must not go in the kitchen, so I go in the garden, and there I stain my frock--or eat too much fruit, or pull the flowers, or lay down on the damp-grass, or do something or other mama has forbidden me to do--for I have no body to keep me company. Then sometimes I go and sit outside of Mama's door and lean against it, and I hear poor Mama cry, and then I cry too--But now you are come, I am never naughty, am I?" "Never, you are one of the best children I ever knew." "That is because I stay with you, and dear Mama. I love to hear you read and talk, and you love me, and let me sit in your lap, when you are sitting by Mama, but when Capt Mirvan is here, he won't let me stay by Mama, but sends me away, and I don't love Capt Mirvan." "And who is Capt Mirvan?', enquired d'Aubigne in evident surprise-"Oh he don't come here now." D'Aubigne checked himself, as he was about to put some other question--and was again lost in thought. "Our Betty, said Capt Mirvan, was a great deal handsomer than you," continued the little prattler, but I don't think so--He is a very large gentleman, a great deal bigger than you--and his skin is as fair as a lady's--and he has blue eyes, and red cheeks, and white teeth

and hanging her face still deeper in his bosom--"I know it is naughty, dear Mama says so--and bids me love my Papa!" "And why cannot you love him, my child?" "Oh Uncle, he frightens me so --he looks so strange at me, and he scolds me, and once he whipped me--indeed--indeed I can't love him. And then, he frightens poor Mama worse yet--and he scolds her too--poor Mama, she cries so sometimes, it makes me cry too." D'aubigne wiped away the tears from the cheeks of the little Rosa tho' he could scarcely restrain his own. He was excessively shocked, by the child's artless but sad account, and felt the deepest anxiety to know more, but was too honorable to attempt drawing it from Rosa. Had he had the least suspicion of the fact, related by the child, he would not have put such a question, and now remained silent and thoughtful. "But I love you," said the little creature twining her arms tightly round his neck, "I love you, dearly, and will never let you leave us." "And why do you love me Rosa?" "Because you love me," said the artless child," and because you are good," "How do you know I am good?" Rosa, for a moment looked steadily in his eyes--and then said, "that is the way I know you are good--that is the way Mama knows when I am good." "Explain," said d'Aubigne, "I do not understand you." "Why," said Rosa, "I see you are good through your eyes--don't you know the eyes are the windows that the soul looks out of, just like you look out of this window; so, you know any one in the garden could look in, and see you through the window, and I can look through your eyes and see your soul. Yes indeed, the very first day you came here, I saw the goodness shining out of your eyes." "And when you are naughty, can your Mama tell, by looking in your eyes?" "Oh yes, Mama always calls me to her, when she comes home and she says, "Let me look in your eyes Rosa, and see if you have been good while I was away. And then if I am good, I open my eyes wide for her to look in--but if I have been naughty, I shut em close up, not to let