m?" says Clarissa, stopping to point backwards
to the turret they have just quitted.

"The past is always full of dreams," replies he, thoughtfully.

CHAPTER V.

"A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky."--WORDSWORTH.

The baby morn has flung aside its robes, and grown to perfect
strength. The day is well advanced. Already it is making rapid strides
towards rest and evening; yet still no cooling breeze has come to
refresh the heart of man.

Below, in the quiet fields, the cattle are standing, knee-deep in
water, beneath the spreading branches of the kindly alder. They have
no energy to eat, but munch, sleepily, the all-satisfying cud, and,
with gentle if expressionless eyes, look out afar for evening and the
milkmaid.

"'Tis raging noon; and, vertical, the sun
Darts on the head direct his forceful rays.
O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye
Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all,
From pole to pole, is undistinguished blaze.
Distressful Nature pants!
The very streams look languid from afar,
Or, through th' unsheltered glade, impatient, seem
To hurl into the covert of the grove."

A tender stillness reigns over everything. The very birds are mute.
Even the busy mill-wheel has ceased to move.

Bright flashes of light, that come and go ere one can catch them, dart
across the gray walls of the old mill,--that holds its gaunt and
stately head erect, as though defying age,--and, slanting to the
right, fall on the cottage, quaint and ivy-clad, that seems to nestle
at its feet. The roses that climb its walls are drooping; the
casements all stand wide. No faintest breath of air comes to flutter
Ruth's white gown, as she leans against the rustic gate.

All millers' daughters should be pretty. It is a duty imposed upon
them by tradition. Romance, of the most floral description, at once
attaches itself to a miller's daughter. I am not at all sure it does
not even cast a halo round the miller himself. Ruth Annersley at least
acknowledges this fact, and does her duty nobly; she gives the lie to
no old legends or treasured nursery superstitions; she is as pretty as
heart can desire,--

"Fresh as the month, and as the morning fair."

She is small, piquant, timid, with large almond-shaped eyes and
light-brown hair, a rounded supple figure, and hands delicately white.
Perhaps there is a lack of force i