Never had that lovely creation of art, blending with nature, looked so like an ideal thing as now--a very growth of fairy-land.

The play of the waters in the air was as the glad motions of a living form.
Around this fountain was a rosary of white and red roses, encircled again by arbor-vitae; and there were statues of choice workmanship, the ideals of modern art, lifting their pure white forms here and there in chastened loveliness.

All this was shut in from observation by a stately grove of elms.

And here it was that the maiden had come to hide herself from observation, and dream her waking dream of love.

What a world of enchantment was dimly opening before her, as her eye ran down the Eden-vistas of the future! Along those aisles of life she saw herself moving, beside a stately one, who leaned toward her, while she clung to him as a vine to its firm support.
Even while in the mazes of this delicious dream, a heavy footfall startled her, and she sprang to her feet with a suddenly-stilled pulsation.