The view was sweet and pleasant to him, for all the babbling of the water was of Rose, and winding in and out, to East, to North, it wound to embowered hopes in the lover's mind, to tender dreams; and often at dawn, when dressing, his restless heart embarked on it, and sailed into havens, the phantom joys of which coloured his life for him all the day.

But most he loved to look across it when the light fell.

The palest solitary gleam along its course spoke to him rich promise.

The faint blue beam of a star chained all his longings, charmed his sorrows to sleep.

Rose like a fairy had breathed her spirit here, and it was a delight to the silly luxurious youth to lie down, and fix some image of a flower bending to the stream on his brain, and in the cradle of fancies that grew round it, slide down the tide of sleep.
From the image of a flower bending to the stream, like his own soul to the bosom of Rose, Evan built sweet fables.