A cheerful apartment on the left of this hall was the abode of an invalid,
whose life for many years disease had vainly sought to darken. There were
lines of suffering on her thin, white face, and her hair, once black, was
silvered; but it would seem that, in the dark, lustrous eyes of the patient
woman, courage and hope had been kindled, rather than quenched, by pain.
She was now reclining on a sofa, which had been wheeled near to a wood-fire
glowing on the hearth of a large Franklin stove; and her dreamy, absent
expression often gave place to one of passing interest as her husband,
sitting opposite, read from his paper an item of news--some echo from the
busy, troubled world, that seemed so remote from their seclusion and
peaceful age. The venerable man appeared, however, as if he might still do
his share in keeping the world busy, and also in banishing its evils.
Although time had whitened his locks, it had touched kindly his stalwart
frame, while his square jaw and strong features indicated a character that
had met life's vicissitudes as a man should meet them. His native strength
and force, however, were like the beautiful region in which he dwelt--once
wild and rugged indeed, but now softened and humanized by generations of
culture. Even his spectacles could not obscure the friendly and benevolent
expression of his large blue eyes. It was evident that he looked at the
world, as mirrored before him in the daily journal, with neither cynicism
nor mere curiosity, but with a heart in sympathy with all the influences
that were making it better.
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