When she returned, it was in a different
mood, unable to believe the doctors could be right, and in the
delight of having her own bright, sweet Ellen back again, all
herself. They had talked, but more of home and village than of
foreign experiences; and though Ellen did not herself assist, she
had much enjoyed watching the unpacking of the numerous gifts which
had cost a perfect fortune at the Custom House. No one seemed
forgotten--villagers, children, servants, friends. Some of these
tokens are before me still. The Florentine mosaic paper-weight she
brought me presses this very sheet; the antique lamp she gave my
father is on the mantelpiece; Clarence's engraving of Raffaelle's
St. Michael hangs opposite to me on the wall. Most precious in our
eyes was the collection of plants, dried and labelled by herself,
which she brought to Emily and me--poor mummies now, but redolent of
undying affection. Her desire was to bestow all her keepsakes with
her own hands, and in most cases she actually did so--a few daily,
as her strength served her. The little figures in costume, coloured
prints, Swiss carvings, French knicknacks, are preserved in many a
Hillside cottage as treasured relics of 'our young lady.' Many
years later, Martyn recognised a Hillside native in a back street in
London by a little purple-blue picture of Vesuvius, and thereby
reached the soft spot in a nearly dried-up heart.
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