of a nunnery."

"We will go--you and I alone, Caroline--to that wood, early some fine
summer morning, and spend a long day there. We can take pencils and
sketch-books, and any interesting reading book we like; and of course we
shall take something to eat. I have two little baskets, in which Mrs.
Gill, my housekeeper, might pack our provisions, and we could each carry
our own. It would not tire you too much to walk so far?"

"Oh no; especially if we rested the whole day in the wood. And I know
all the pleasantest spots. I know where we could get nuts in nutting
time; I know where wild strawberries abound; I know certain lonely,
quite untrodden glades, carpeted with strange mosses, some yellow as if
gilded, some a sober gray, some gem-green. I know groups of trees that
ravish the eye with their perfect, picture-like effects--rude oak,
delicate birch, glossy beech, clustered in contrast; and ash trees
stately as Saul, standing isolated; and superannuated wood-giants clad
in bright shrouds of ivy. Miss Keeldar, I could guide you."

"You would be dull with me alone?"

"I should not. I think we should suit; and what third person is there
whose presence would not spoil our pleasure?"

"Indeed, I know of none about our own ages--no lady at least; and as to
gentlemen----"

"An excursion becomes quite a different thing when there are gentlemen
of the party," interrupted Caroline.

"I agree with you--quite a different thing to what we were proposing."

"We were going simply to see the old trees, the old ruins; to pass a day
in old times, surrounded by olden silence, and above all by quietude."

"You are right; and the presence of gentlemen dispels the last charm, I
think. If they are of the wrong sort, like your Malones, and your young
Sykes, and Wynnes, irritation takes the place of serenity. If they are
of the right sort, there is still a change; I can hardly tell what
change--one easy to feel, difficult to describe."

"We forget Nature, _imprimis_."

"And then Nature forgets us, covers her vast calm brow with a dim veil,
conceals her face, and withdraws the peaceful joy with which, if we had
been content to worship her only, she would have filled our hearts."

"What does she give us instead?"

"More elation and more anxiety; an excitement that steals the hours away
fast, and a trouble that ruffles their course."

"Our power of being happy lies a good deal in ourselves, I believe,"
remarked Caroline sagely. "I ha