Still, his rich language and fluent periods, even in description, touched her ear and fancy, though they sank not to her heart; and she yielded insensibly to the spells she would almost have despised in another.
The next day, Constance, who was no very early riser, tempted by the beauty of the noon, strolled into the gardens.

She was surprised to hear Godolphin's voice behind her: she turned round and he joined her.
"I thought you were on your shooting expedition ?" "I have been shooting, and I am returned.

I was out by daybreak, and I came back at noon in the hope of being allowed to join you in your ride or walk." Constance smilingly acknowledged the compliment; and as they passed up the straight walks of the old-fashioned and stately gardens, Godolphin turned the conversation upon the varieties of garden scenery; upon the poets who have described those varieties best; upon that difference between the town life and the country, on which the brothers of the minstrel craft have, in all ages, so glowingly insisted.

In this conversation, certain points of contrast between the characters of these two young persons might be observed.
"I confess to you," said Godolphin, "that I have little faith in the permanence of any attachment professed for the country by the inhabitants of cities.

If we can occupy our minds solely with the objects around us,--if the brook and the old tree, and the golden sunset, and the summer night, and the animal and homely life that we survey,--if these can fill our contemplation, and take away from us the feverish schemes of the future,--then indeed I can fully understand the reality of that tranquil and happy state which our elder poets have described as incident to a country life.