"Then you don't want to go back?"
"No. There is nothing to make me wish to go back. There is no one there to love me now."
She looked very sad for a few moments.
"Yes," said Alec, thoughtfully; "a winter without love must be dreadful. But I like the winter; and we have plenty of it in our quarter too."
"Where is your home?"
"Not many miles north of this."
"Is it a nice place?"
"Of course I think so."
"Ah! you have a mother. I wish I knew her."
"I wish you did.—True: the whole place is like her to me. But I don't think everybody would admire it. There are plenty of bare snowy hills there too in winter. But I think the summers and the harvests are as delightful as anything can be, except—"