a sudden rush, as of unloosed waters.

Jacques sees the impression he has made, and in his secret heart is
flushed with anticipated conquest. He smooths his frill, and gently
arranges a drop curl.

"Love, I think, should inhabit the green fields," he says with
melancholy grace; "for love, dearest Miss Belle-bouche, is the essence
of freshness and delight."

"The--fields?" says Belle-bouche, thoughtfully gazing upon her fan.

"Yes; and the shepherd's life is certainly the happiest. Ah! to love
and be loved under the skies--in Arcady! But Arcady is everywhere when
the true heart is near. To love and be loved!" says Jacques with a sad
sigh; "to know there is one near you whose whole heart is yours--whose
bosom would willingly support the weary head; to have a heart to bring
all your sorrows to; to feel that the sky was brighter, and all the
stars more friendly and serene, if she were by you; to love and love,
and never change, and live a life of happy dreams, however active it
might be, when the dear image swept across the horizon! To give the
heart and mind out in a sigh, and seal the vow of faith and truth upon
loving lips! In a word--one word speaks it all--to love! Yes, yes! to
love! To feel the horizon expand around you till it seems to embrace
every thing; to love innocently, purely, under the holy heavens; to
love till the dying hour, and then, clasped in a pure embrace, to go
away together to another world!--Only to love!"

And Jacques raises his eyes to the blushing face of Belle-bouche.

"Is it not fair to think of?" he says sadly.

She tries to smile, and can only murmur, "Yes."

"I fear it is but a dream," says Jacques.

She does not reply: she wishes a moment to collect her thoughts and
regain her calmness.

"A dream," he continues, "which many poor fellows dream, and live in,
and make a reality of--alas! never to be realized."

"Perhaps the world has changed since the old Arcadian days," murmurs
Belle-bouche, gazing down with rosy cheeks, and a bad attempt at ease.
"You know the earth has become different."

"Yes, yes," sighs Jacques; "I very much fear all this is folly."

"Who knows but----"

She pauses.

Jacques raises his eyes, and their glances meet. She stops abruptly,
and looks away. It is not affectation in her. That deep blush is
wholly irrepressible.

Jacques seizes her hand, and says:

"Give me the assurance that such things can be! Tell me that this
dream could be realized!"