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Rh familiar ground to him—that he could tell me many interesting stories of the Indian wars, manners, legends, etc."

"No doubt. Very interesting some of them would be. He ought to be pretty well posted in Indian customs. What else did he say?"

"He asked me whether I had any brothers and sisters; and thought I must be very lonely on this wild claim with no one but you; and you gone much of the time."

"He thinks you need company, does he? Well, I don't agree with him. I tell you what, Alicia Newcome, if that French trader comes around here any more, asking for me, and stopping to talk with you, I'll make you sorry for encouraging such acquaintances."

"But, how can I keep him from coming, or from talking to me if he should come?" asked Alicia, between grief and resentment at her father's harshness.

"There's ways enough. Every woman knows, or ought to know, how to rid herself of the society of disreputable men."

"But I am not a woman yet, father; and I do not know how to give any but a respectful answer to respectful remarks from any one."

"Too much mother's blood, eh? Take care that I don't see you showing your good blood too plainly. You understand? I will not have you doing as your mother did before you—courting with her gracious smiles every one she met."

This manner of being revenged on his aristocratic wife for bringing him no money was habitual with Newcome, and had been one of the briers in her crown of thorns while she lived. Accustomed as was Alicia to hear her mother sneered at on account of that very gentleness which had made her too easy a prey to a foolish passion and a designing underling, she could but reflect upon her superiority in all those qualifications which confer grace and sweetness; nor could she help being hurt at every fresh insult to the memory of her dead mother, though use had done what it might to render her young mind callous to them. A few slow-dropping tears rolled over her cheeks, which she brushed away stealthily, for fear of giving occasion to a yet more cruel taunt on her likeness to her beloved and departed mother.

The cabin of Thomas Newcome was but a dreary place for so fair a young creature as his only child. Happily for her she did not feel it as a serious misfortune to be poor. Whatever of elegant tastes she had received from her mother's training while still they abode in intellectual New England, had taught her rather to embellish poverty with many careful arts, than to be herself overcome by its natural ugliness. Thus it happened that, though every thing was most unpoetically new, rude and ungraceful about the cabin home, an air of neatness and propriety were everywhere visible, which spoke volumes in favor of its youthful mistress. And yet, making every possible allowance, and seeing every thing in the most favorable light,