Page:Ethel Churchill 1.pdf/66

dearly the child of his old age had clung to his very existence. He fancied that he had resources in his own mind: alas! the mind ill supplies the wants of the heart. There is to age something so enlivening in the company of youth, unconsciously it shares the cheerfulness it witnesses, and hopes with the hopes around, in that sympathy which is the kindliest part of our nature. Even his young neighbour who so often shared his studies, had departed—Walter Maynard had gone to London. Nor was the house of the Churchills less altered. Their young kinsman had received a sudden summons from his mother, on the occasion of his uncle, Lord Norbourne's visit. Ethel sat lonely on the little lawn, where every thing had altered almost as much as her own feelings. The approach of autumn's bleaker hour had stripped many of the trees of their foliage, and the bare boughs waved disconsolate to a low and moaning wind. The last of the flowers had fallen from the stem; and there was not even moonlight to soften the dreariness of the scene. The dark evenings