There were many paths that led to it, concealed one from the other by gigantic trees and overhanging shrubs.
It was a favorite spot with.

Marie, and she now stood leaning against the statue, quite unconscious that tears were falling faster and faster from her eyes, and mingling with the waters at her feet.
"Marie!" exclaimed the voice of Stanley at that moment: "Canst thou be Marie?
so false, so--" but his words were checked, for the terror, the tumult of feeling, while it impelled her to start from him, deprived her of all power; and a rapid movement on his part alone prevented her from falling in the deep pool beneath their feet.

It was but a moment: she withdrew herself from his supporting arms, and stood erect before him, though words she had none.
"Speak to me!" reiterated Arthur, his voice sounding hollow and changed; "I ask but one word.

My very senses seem to play me false, and mock me with thy outward semblance to one I have so loved.

Her name, too, was Marie; her voice soft and thrilling as thine own: and yet, yet, I feel that 'tis but semblance--'tis but mockery--the phantasy of a disordered brain.