The winter months passed away slowly for Angela, but not by any meansunhappily. Though she was quite alone and missed Mr. Fraser sadly, shefound considerable consolation in his present of books, and in thethought that she was getting a good hold of her new subjects of study.And then came the wonder of the spring with its rush of budding life,and who, least of all Angela, could be sad in springtime? Butnevertheless that spring marked an important change in our heroine,for it was during its sweet hours, when, having put her books aside,she would roam alone, or in company with her ravens, through theflower-starred woods around the lake, that a feeling of restlessness,amounting at times almost to dissatisfaction, took possession of her.Indeed, as the weeks crept on and she drew near the completion of hertwentieth year, she realized with a sigh that she could no longer callherself a girl, and began to feel that her life was incomplete, thatsomething was wanting in it. And this was what was wanting in Angela'slife: she had, if we except her nurse, no one to love, and she had somuch love to give!
Did she but guess it, the still recesses of her heart already trembleto the footfall of one now drawing near: out of the multitude of thelives around her, a life is marked to mingle with her own. She doesnot know it, but as the first reflection of the dawn strikes theunconscious sky and shadows the coming of its king, so the red flushthat now so often springs unbidden to her brow, tells of girlhood'stwilight ended, and proclaims the advent of woman's life and love.