"Yes, ever since I was a little child. I live over there with my father," and she pointed to the right. "You cannot see the house as that point hides it from view."
Nurse Marion was not slow in noting the correctness of Nance's speech, the beauty of her face, as well as her quiet dignity and natural refinement of manner. She was much impressed, and longed to know more about her.
"Is your mother living here, too?" she asked. "I should like to meet her. I am so pleased that I shall have such nice neighbours."
"My father and mother are both dead," Nance replied. "They were drowned when I was very little."
"Oh! But you said that you lived with your father."
"He is not my real father, though he has been one to me all my life, and I have known no other. He took me from the Indians after my parents were drowned, and we have lived here ever since."
"And how did you learn to play the violin so well?"
"My father taught me. He plays much better than I do. If you once heard him you would not wish to listen to me."
"I should certainly like to hear him," the nurse returned, "and I hope to do so shortly, that is, if I may visit your home sometime. But how lonely you must have been in this country before the miners arrived."
"Why no, I didn't mind it one bit. The Indians have always been very good friends to us, and Quabee here is almost like a mother to me. Then, there are so many beautiful things everywhere, the trees, birds, flowers, mountains, and this lake. I love them all."