more sweetly than any in all that plain, and Astrophel would oft urge
Cleon to his dwelling, which was a fair one, with shady groves, sunny
lawns, and springing fountains."

"Ah, sweet Sidney, dear Penshurst!" breathed the lady, softly.

"Now upon a day--indeed, 'tis little more than a year ago--Cleon,
returning to the plain from a far journey, found Astrophel, who, taking
no denial, would have him to those sunny lawns and springing fountains.
There was dust upon the spirit of the shepherd Cleon: that had happened
which had left in his mouth the taste of Dead Sea fruit; almost was he
ready to break his pipe across, and to sit still forever, covering his
face. But Astrophel, knowing in himself how he would have felt in his
dearest part that wound which his friend had received, was skilled to
heal, and with wise counsel and honeyed words at last won Cleon to
visit him."

"A year and more ago," said Damaris, dreamily.

"On such a day as this, Cleon and Astrophel came to the latter's home,
where, since Astrophel was as a magnet-stone to draw unto him the
noblest of his kind, they found a goodly gathering of the chiefest of
the dwellers in the plain. Nor were lacking young shepherdesses, nymphs,
and ladies as virtuous as they were fair, for Astrophel's sister was
such an one as Astrophel's sister should be."

"Most dear, most sweet Countess," murmured Damaris.

"Cleon and Astrophel were made welcome by this goodly company, after
which all addressed themselves to those sports of that country for which
the day had been devised. But though he made merry with the rest, nor
was in anything behind them, Cleon's heart was yet heavy within him....
Aurora, fast flying, turned a rosy cheek, then the night hid her path
with his spangled mantle, and all this company of shepherdish folk left
the gray lawns for Astrophel's house, that was lit with clear wax and
smelled sweet of roses. And after a while, when there had been comfit
talk and sipping of sweet wine, one sang, and another followed, while
the company listened, for they were of those who have ears to hear.
Colin sang of Rosalind; Damon, of Myra; Astrophel, of Stella; Cleon,
of--none of these things. 'Sing of love!' they cried, and he sang of
friendship;' Of the love of a woman!' and he sang to the honor of
a man."

"But in that contest he won the Countess's pearl," said the maid of
honor, her chin in her hands; "I knew (dear lady!) what, being woman,
was her inmost though