Ernest Richard Seymour, Once a Week (1860)
“ Her mother had died when she was a mere child. Her father, though treating her always with a sort of sombre kindness, never had her confidence. She had no playfellow, except myself, and after Eldred became her accepted lover, there seemed, on some points, almost a distance between us. Besides, I was constantly away, and at last it appeared to me that my sweet cousin had bestowed on the one centre of affection the entire tendrils of her heart, and lived and breathed for none other. I was just seventeen years of age when I returned to Yssbrooke to spend my last Harrow vacation. ”
