Half-way down you saw the house I have been describing, the carriage-road that wound beneath it, and below that, the hill sloping downward in a broad, rolling lawn, which lost itself with gentle undulations in the green bosom of the valley.
This was the home to which I was brought, and this beautiful view lay before me as I stood upon the terrace-steps, wondering that the earth could be so lovely. Miss Olmsly paused by my side, enjoying my surprise.
"You like it," she said; "we shall be very happy here, for I know how it will be with my father when he sees your demure little face."
"Happy," I said, looking at the flowers which bloomed around me everywhere. "I did not know that there was any place in the world so lovely as this."
"I am glad you are pleased, young lady."
I started, turned toward the speaker, and saw a fine old gentleman, with soft brown eyes, and hair as white as snow, standing on the step above me.
"It is my father, dear," said Miss Olmsly, mounting a step higher and offering the old man a kiss; "she is a dear, good child, papa, and we love her already."
"I am glad of that," he said, stooping down and kissing me on the forehead. "Your father was my friend, child, and I will be yours. Come into the house; you must be tired and hungry."
We entered the house which was henceforth to be my home. Miss Olmsly took me directly to a pretty chamber, that had been evidently prepared for my coming. Everything was simple, neat, and pure as snow. As if they had known how I loved flowers, they were placed in the deep window-seats, on the white marble of the mantelpiece, and the principal window opened on the loveliest portion of the third terrace, where a world of flowers were in bloom from May till November.
There I hung up the bird-cage which I had brought from home in the carriage, and the little inmate began to sing joyously, as if he understood all the beauties of our new home and rejoiced over them.