Heather and Snow by George MacDonald — Read

The beginning of the winter had been open and warm, and very little / snow had fallen. This was much in Phemy's favour, and by the new year / she was quite well. But, notwithstanding her heartlessness toward / Steenie, she was no longer quite like her old self. She was quieter and / less foolish; she had had a lesson in folly, and a long ministration of / love, and knew now a trifle about both. It is true she wrote nearly as / much silly poetry, but it was not so silly as before, partly because / her imagination had now something of fact to go upon, and poorest fact / is better than mere fancy. So free was her heart, however, that she / went of herself to see her aunt at the castle, to whom, having beheld / the love between David and his daughter, and begun to feel injured by / the little notice her father took of her, she bewailed his / indifference.

At Mrs. Bremner's request she had made an appointment to go with her / from the castle on a certain Saturday to visit a distant relative, / living in a lonely cottage on the other side of the Horn -- a woman too / old ever to leave her home. When the day arrived, both saw that the / weather gave signs of breaking, but the heavy clouds on the horizon / seemed no worse than had often shown themselves that winter, and as / often passed away. The air was warm, the day bright, the earth dry, and / Phemy and her aunt were in good spirits. They had purposed to return / early to Weelset, but agreed as they went that Phemy, the days being so / short, should take the nearer path to Tiltowie, over the Horn. By this / arrangement, their visit ended, they had no great distance to walk / together, Mrs. Bremner's way lying along the back of the hill, and / Phemy's over the nearer shoulder of it.