, but in a truer and, as we think, a diviner sense.

The exhibition in the grotto had produced its effect upon all the
spectators, great as well as small; but the brain of the little Petrea
seemed quite intoxicated, not to say crazed by it. The Wood-god, with
his music, his half-animal, half-human figure, although only of gypsum,
and, as the Candidate declared, the offspring only of a dim fancy, as
well as that it was without life or actuality, still remained to her
imagination a living existence, as real as wonderful. She could see
nothing, think of nothing, but the Wood-god; and the foreboding of a new
and wonderful world filled her soul with a delicious terror.

In the mean time the Candidate conducted Elise, by a path which wound
among alders and birches, up the mountain in which the grotto was. When
they reached the top, all was sunny and cheerful; and behold upon a
mound was set out, so pleasantly in the sunshine, a little collation of
berries and fruit. It was the Candidate, who had great pleasure in being
the kind-hearted host on such occasions, who had provided this little
surprise for Elise and the children; and never, indeed, was a surprise
more welcome or more joyous. It is the most thankful thing in the world
to give pleasure to children; and, moreover, the goodwill of the mother
is always obtained thereby.

The Candidate spread his cloak upon a green slope under a hedge of
roses, on which Elise's favourite flowers were still blooming, as a seat
for herself and "the baby," which now, lifted out of the
wicker-carriage, had its green silk bonnet taken off, and its golden
locks bathed in sunshine. He chose out the best fruit for her and her
mother; and then seating himself on the grass near her, played with her,
and drove away the flies from her and her mother with a spray of roses,
whilst the other children ran about at a distance, enjoying with all the
zest of childhood, gooseberries and freedom. The trees soughed in the
soft south wind, whilst the melodious sighs of the Wood-god, and the
splash of the water, mingled gently with the whispering leaves. It was a
delicious time, and its soft influence stole into the soul of Elise. The
sun, the scent of the roses, the song of the wood and of the water, and
the Syrinx, the beautiful scene before her, the happy children--all
these called up suddenly into her breast that summer of the heart, in
which all sentiments, all thoughts, are like beautiful flowers, and
w