Without a
mother, without a companion, she had to find what solace, what
pastime she could. In the huge house there was not a piano fit to
play upon; and her only source of in-door amusement was a library
containing a large disproportion of books in old French bindings,
with much tarnished gilding on the backs. But a native purity of
soul kept her lovely, and capable of becoming lovelier.
[Illustration: COSMO AND LADY JOAN CLIMBING.]
The mystery of all mysteries is the upward tendency of so many
souls through so much that clogs and would defile their wings,
while so many others SEEM never even to look up. Then, having so
begun with the dust, how do these ever come to raise their eyes to
the hills? The keenest of us moral philosophers are but poor,
mole-eyed creatures! One day, I trust, we shall laugh at many a
difficulty that now seems insurmountable, but others will keep
rising behind them. Lady Joan did not like ugly things, and so
shrank from evil things. She was the less in danger from liberty,
because of the disgust which certain tones and words of her father
had repeatedly occasioned her. She learned self-defence early--and
alone, without even a dog to keep her company, and help her to the
laws of the world outside herself.
With none of the conventionalities of society, Lady Joan saw no
reason for making a difficulty when, the day after that on which
her father died, Cosmo proposed a walk in the snow.
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