w singing over
the river, leaving a trail of music behind him. There was a dash and
daring about this which fired little sparrow with emulation. His last
fear seemed conquered, and he flew confidingly to Warwick's palm,
pecking the crumbs with grateful chirps and friendly glances from its
quick, bright eye. It was a pretty picture for the girl to see; the man,
an image of power, in his hand the feathered atom, that, with unerring
instinct, divined and trusted the superior nature which had not yet lost
its passport to the world of innocent delights that Nature gives to
those who love her best. Involuntarily Sylvia clapped her hands, and,
startled by the sudden sound, little sparrow skimmed away.

"Thank you for the pleasantest sight I've seen for many a day. How did
you learn this gentle art, Mr. Warwick?"

"I was a solitary boy, and found my only playmates in the woods and
fields. I learned their worth, they saw my need, and when I asked their
friendship, gave it freely. Now we should go; you are very tired, let me
help you."

He held his hand to her, and she put her own into it with a confidence
as instinctive as the bird's. Then, hand in hand they crossed the bridge
and struck into the wilderness again; climbing slopes still warm and
odorous, passing through dells full of chilly damps, along meadows
spangled with fire-flies, and haunted by sonorous frogs; over rocks
crisp with pale mosses, and between dark firs, where shadows brooded,
and melancholy breezes rocked themselves to sleep. Speaking seldom, yet
feeling no consciousness of silence, no sense of restraint, for they no
longer seemed like strangers to one another, and this spontaneous
friendliness lent an indefinable charm to the dusky walk. Warwick found
satisfaction in the knowledge of her innocent faith in him, the touch of
the little hand he held, the sight of the quiet figure at his side.
Sylvia felt that it was pleasant to be the object of his care, fancied
that they would learn to know each other better in three days of this
free life than in as many months at home, and rejoiced over the
discovery of unsuspected traits in him, like the soft lining of the
chestnut burr, to which she had compared him more than once that
afternoon. So, mutually and unconsciously yielding to the influence of
the hour and the mood it brought them, they walked through the twilight
in that eloquent silence which often proves more persuasive than the
most fluent speech.

The