and Annie looked as though rest would not come amiss; so I helped her
over the stile, and we sat down. The rich, fervid hues I used so
homoeopathically by the stroke of my brush were spread over miles of
forest; a vaporous veil of mist hung over every winding stream and
mountain lake, and, reflecting the brilliant-colored shrubbery which
bordered them, they glared like stained glass; the sunshine filtered
down through haze and vapor like gold-dust on the meadow-land; gold and
purple key-notes of autumn coloring in many varying shades of tree,
water, and cloud blended to the perfect chord, uttering themselves
lastly most quietly in the golden-rods and asters at our feet. That
hazy, dreamy atmosphere uniting with my vague, aimless state of mind, I
would fain make it accountable for the talk which followed.

First we went over the old times, I recalling, Annie assenting in a
quiet, half-sad way, or brightening as though by an effort, and throwing
in a reminiscence herself. We talked of those we had mutually known, and
I was just recalling the rude admiration of Tracy Waters to her mind,
when she suggested that she should be late for her lesson,--it was time
to leave.

"No, indeed, Annie!" I exclaimed, seizing her hand as she sat beside
me,--"this is the first hour's actual rest I have had for months; it is
like the returning sleep of health after delirium. You shall not go.
When have I ever had you to myself before? The time is beautiful; we are
happy; do not let us go up to Hillside to-day--or any more."

I spoke not so much wildly as naturally and weariedly; but Annie's cheek
flushed scarlet, as she started, with a touch of Miss Darry's energy,
from the stump beside me.

"Yes, Sandy, we will go to Hillside at once; you shall tell Miss Darry,
that, in talking over by-gone days with your little sister, you forgot
yourself and overstayed your time; and I, too, must make my excuses."

She walked quickly away, and before I had risen, in a half-stupefied
way, she was at the stile.

It was rather difficult to rejoin her. I had the novel and not
altogether pleasing sensation of having been refused before I had asked;
and my child-friend, taught of Nature's simple dignity and sense of
right, was more at ease for the remainder of the walk than I.

CHAPTER XIV.

I meant to have frankly confessed my talk with Annie to Miss Darry. No
orthodox saint could have been more penitentially conscious of having
fallen from grace. B