Neither did she know how often, in the silent night, the boy they thought so flinty, so averse to womankind, wept for the love he had no hope of gaining.
"Then mother and Ad came to Spring Bank, and that opened to me a new era.

In my odd way, I loved my mother so much--so much; but Ad--say, Alice, is it wicked in me if I can't love Ad ?" "She is your sister," was Alice's reply; and Hugh rejoined: "Yes--my sister.

I'm sorry for it, even, if it's wicked to be sorry.

She gave me back only scorn and bitter words, until my heart closed up against her, and I harshly judged all others by her--all but one!" and Hugh's voice grew very low and tender in its tone, while Alice felt that now he was nearing the Golden Hair.
"Away off in New England, among the Yankee hills, there was a pure, white blossom growing; a blossom so pure, so fair, that few, very few, were worthy even so much as to look upon it, as day by day it unfolded some new beauty.

There was nothing to support this flower but a single frail parent stalk, which snapped asunder one day, and Blossom was left alone.