him, now seemed to be fairer and more interesting and beautiful than ever. He saw beauty in every petal of flower and life and a lesson in every blade of grass.
Nature meant to him more than what he beheld in her common mountains, valleys, plains, flowers, bubbling brooks and singing birds. It meant something greater, yes, greater than all-the love of a woman.
That was what made him uneasy, knowing not where to go,--but his better self got hold of him.
He paused. He stopped humming, for, lo, in the distance he saw a shadow. Ah, what a lovely shadow!
Nay, was it really a shadow? The shadow of a woman? What a lovely vision! No, it was Rosa herself coming and bringing an earthen pitcher in her hands going down to the brook to fill it with water.
She was lovely beyond compare like the morning, in her dress of fresh green and light rose, the folds of which made her look so serene, and virgin-like. Ah, to him in his dream only-she was all the world, just like the embodiment of the description of the woman in his favorite song "Annie Laurie"-"the fairest that e'er the sun shone on."
He was lost-how to approach her, he had no time, or the least idea to think about. He was lost in admiration.
The figure glided along and came nearer, unconsciously knowing that any one was looking at her. Unexpectedly she heard:
