CHAPTER V.
CHARLOTTE.
"Oh, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day!" "Hammering and clinking, chattering stony names Of shale and hornblende, rag and trap and tuff, Amygdaloid and trachyte." When Charlotte again went to Up-Hill she found herself walking through a sober realm of leafless trees.

The glory of autumn was gone.

The hills, with their circular sheep-pens, were now brown and bare; and the plaided shepherds, descending far apart, gave only an air of loneliness to the landscape.

She could see the white line of the stony road with a sad distinctness.

It was no longer bordered with creeping vines and patches of murmuring bee-bent heather.