"The morning is so beautiful, and you promised me one half hour.

Do not take that book with you.

I shall want all your attention for I have a story to tell you." He walked by her side through the pleasure gardens where the lake gleamed in the sunshine, the water lilies sleeping on its quiet bosom; through the fragrant flower beds where the bees hummed and the butterflies made love to the fairest blossoms.
"Let us go on to the park," said Valentine; "the sun is too warm here." "I know a little spot just fitted for a fairy bower," said Ronald.
"Let me show it to you.

I can tell my story better there." They went through the broad gates of the park, across which the checkered sunbeams fell, where the deer browsed and king-cups and tall foxgloves grew--on to the brook side where Dora had rested so short a time since to think of her new-found happiness.
The pale primroses had all died away, the violets were gone; but in their place the deep green bank was covered with other flowers of bright and sunny hue.

The shade of tall trees covered the bank, the little brook sang merrily, and birds chimed in with the rippling water; the summer air was filled with the faint, sweet summer music.
"It is a pretty spot," said Miss Charteris.
The green grass seemed to dance in the breeze, and Ronald made something like a throne amid it.
"You shall be queen, and I your suppliant," he said.