"Well, I may be mistaken—Oh, he can't be more than forty, or thirty," continued the man, watching the countenance of Julia; "he is a man that looks much older than he is."
"Is he strong and active?"
"I guess he is—he's as strong as an ox, and active as a cat," said the other, determined he should pass.
"Well, then," said the aunt, in her satisfied way, "let every thing be ready for us in Albany by next Tuesday. We shall leave home on Monday."
The man withdrew.
Julia had heard enough—for ox she had substituted
Hercules, and for cat, she read the feathered
Mercury.
CHAPTER V.
THE long expected Monday at length arrived, and Miss Emmerson and Julia, taking an affectionate leave of their relatives in the city, went on board the steam-boat under the protection of Charles Weston. Here a new scene indeed opened on our heroine; for some time she even forgot to look around her in the throng in quest of Antonio. As the boat glided along the stream, she stood leaning on one arm of Charles, while Miss Emmerson held the other, in delighted gaze at the objects, which they had scarcely distinguished before they were passed.
"See, dear Charles," cried Julia, in a burst of what she would call natural feeling—"there is our house— here the summerhouse, and there the little arbour where you read to us last week Scott's new novel— how delightful! every thing now seems and feels like home."
"Would it were a home for us all," said Charles, gently pressing her arm in his own, and speaking only to be heard by Julia, "then should I be happy indeed."