ort absence of her lover, hereafter to be noted),
and subsequent events stamped with interest every spot she was known to
have favoured with resort. And when the flower had been duly conned,
and the study dismissed, Aram, to whom all the signs of the seasons were
familiar, pointed to her the thousand symptoms of the month which are
unheeded by less observant eyes; not forgetting, as they thus reclined,
their hands clasped together, to couple each remark with some allusion
to his love or some deduction which heightened compliment into poetry.
He bade her mark the light gossamer as it floated on the air; now
soaring high--high into the translucent atmosphere; now suddenly
stooping, and sailing away beneath the boughs, which ever and anon it
hung with a silken web, that by the next morn, would glitter with a
thousand dew drops. "And, so," said he fancifully, "does Love lead forth
its numberless creations, making the air its path and empire; ascending
aloof at its wild will, hanging its meshes on every bough, and bidding
the common grass break into a fairy lustre at the beam of the daily
sun!"

He pointed to her the spot, where, in the silent brake, the harebells,
now waxing rare and few, yet lingered--or where the mystic ring on the
soft turf conjured up the associations of Oberon and his train. That
superstition gave licence and play to his full memory and glowing fancy;
and Shakspeare--Spenser--Ariosto--the magic of each mighty master of
Fairy Realm--he evoked, and poured into her transported ear. It was
precisely such arts, which to a gayer and more worldly nature than
Madeline's might have seemed but wearisome, that arrested and won her
imaginative and high-wrought mind. And thus he, who to another might
have proved but the retired and moody Student, became to her the very
being of whom her "Maiden meditation" had dreamed--the master and
magician of her fate.

Aram did not return to the house with Madeline; he accompanied her to
the garden gate, and then taking leave of her, bent his way homeward. He
had gained the entrance of the little valley that led to his abode, when
he saw Walter cross his path at a short distance. His heart, naturally
susceptible to kindly emotion, smote him as he remarked the moody
listlessness of the young man's step, and recalled the buoyant lightness
it was once wont habitually to wear. He quickened his pace, and joined
Walter before the latter was aware of his presence.

"Good evening,"