To a sensitive and poetic mind, what is more enjoyable than the silent hours of solitude when the soul is revelling in the delights of idealism; its sweet commune with kindred spirits; its longing and fanciful aspirations?
Who that is not possessed of those precious gifts of the soul can realize the happiness that Guy Trevelyan derived from this source?
He could, as it were, divest himself of earthy material and live in the ethereal essence of divine communion.

In those flights of bliss the loved form of Lady Rosamond was ever near.

Her presence hallowed the path whereon he trod.

None others invaded the sanctity of this realm of dreams.

One soul was there--one being--alas! to wake in one realty.
Mary Douglas was at all times a true sympathizer.