Lost in these tender memories, she sat till the old moon-faced clock
behind the door struck twelve, then the visions vanished, leaving
their benison behind them.
As she glanced backward at the smouldering fire, a slender spire of
flame shot up from the log that had blazed so cheerily, and shone
upon her as she went. A good omen, gratefully accepted then, and
remembered often in the years to come.
CHAPTER II.
SERVANT.
A FORTNIGHT later, and Christie was off. Mrs. Flint had briefly
answered that she had a room, and that work was always to be found
in the city. So the girl packed her one trunk, folding away splendid
hopes among her plain gowns, and filling every corner with happy
fancies, utterly impossible plans, and tender little dreams, so
lovely at the time, so pathetic to remember, when contact with the
hard realities of life has collapsed our bright bubbles, and the
frost of disappointment nipped all our morning glories in their
prime. The old red stage stopped at Enos Devon's door, and his niece
crossed the threshold after a cool handshake with the master of the
house, and a close embrace with the mistress, who stood pouring out
last words with spectacles too dim for seeing.
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