This difference in their sentiments did not produce the least estrangement between them; only Camilla regretted to see Louis ready to raise his hand against the freedom of his mother’s race, although he was perfectly unconscious of his connection with it, for the conflict which was then brewing between the North and the South was in fact a struggle between despotism and idea; between freedom on one side and slavery on the other.

Chapter VIII

“Commencement over, what are you going to do with yourself?”

“I don’t know; loaf around, I suppose.”

“Why don’t you go to Newport?”

“Don’t want to; got tired of it last year.”

“Saratoga?”

“A perfect bore!”

“Niagara?”

“Been there twice.”

“A pedestrian tour to the White Mountains?”

“Haven’t got energy enough.”

“What will you do?”

“Stay at home and fight mosquitoes.”

“Very pleasant employment.  I don’t envy you, but I can tell you something better than that.”

“What is it?” said his companion, yawning.

“Come, go home with me.”

“Go home with you!  Where is that, and what is the attraction?”

“Well, let me see, it is situated in one of the most beautiful valleys of Western Pennsylvania, our village is environed by the most lovely hills, and nestling among the trees, with its simple churches and unpretending homes of quiet beauty and good taste, it is one of the most pleasant and picturesque places I ever saw.  And, besides, as you love to hunt and fish, we have one of the finest streams of trout, and some of the most excellent game in the woods.”

“Is that all?”

“Why, isn’t that enough?  You must be rather hard to please this morning.”

“Think so?”

“Yes, but I have not told you the crowning attraction.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, one of the most beautiful girls I ever saw!  We call her the lily of the valley.”

“Describe her.”

“I can’t.  It would be like attempting to paint a sun beam or doing what no painter has ever done, sketch a rainbow.”

“You are very poetical this morning, but I want you to do as our President sometimes tells us, proceed from the abstract to the concrete.”

“Well, let me begin:  she has the most beautiful little feet.  I never see her stepping along without thinking of Cinderella and the glass slipper.  As to eyes, they are either dark brown or black, I don’t know which; but I do know they are beautiful; and her hair, well, she generally wears that plain in deference to the wishes of her Quaker friends, but sometimes in the most beautiful ripples of golden brown I ever saw.”

“That will do, now tell me who she is?  You spoke of her Quaker friends.  Is she not their daughter?”

“No, there seems to be some mystery about her history.  About ten years ago, my father brought her to Josiah Carpenter’s but he’s always been reticent about her, in fact I never took the pains to inquire.  She’s a great favorite in the village, and everybody says she is as beautiful as she is good, and vice versa.”