Excerpt from Clare Duval: A Novel

As it was with the parent so was it likewise with the child; his life had gradually been woven in hers, be coming a part and substance of her being. He was her ideal of all that was true and good and wise. If she pos sessed a rebellious spirit and refused t others unless she saw the best of reasons was rarely an occasion when she would wishes. But she seldom took anything from him, and high-spirited as she was, she would argue with him at times, seeking to prove an error of judgment on his part; and in this she succeeded now and then.

Deep was her love for him and lasting, however; she could not be disobedient long because the thought of his unhappiness would soon overcome her own selfish emo tions.

Proudest moment of the whole long happy day, it was, when behind old Cicero, the family hack, sometimes ac companied by her mother, more often with the coachman alone, she went to meet her father at the station. Such remembrances of childhood are never to be forgotten: the crush of vehicles; the incoming train with all its hideous announcements; the crowd of toilers returning to their homes, every one of them seeming to seek out the little maid as if to get a recognition from her, were a some thing without which the day's routine would be left in complete. There was brother Henry, most irrepressible of lads, always leaping to the ground before the train stopped; and there was her father, painfully methodical man that he was, eagerly searching for his daughter, while mingling with the crowd upon the platform; hav ing for every one a cheery smile and hearty greeting, though through ten year's time the monotony of that existence had very, very seldom been relieved by even a day's recreation.

Not the slowest to comprehend everything was the intelligent Cicero. Patient till all was ready, none was more eager than he to join in the race homeward at the child's command; though at the same time conscious of his great responsibility, being most careful to pick-his way amidst the whirl of vehicles and horses with their jingling chains and silver trappings; but plainly display ing the pride he felt that the best of equine blood flowed through his veins, and contemptuous of the stiffened knees and relaxed muscles that too often bore such senseless finery.

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