ug, while the vague, delicious perfume, that seemed to surround and
caress him, soothed his ruffled feelings, and filled his mind with
rapturous visions of bliss. He tried in vain to divine who it could
be that had sent to fetch him in this delightfully mysterious way, and
became more curious than ever, and also rather uneasy again, when he
felt that the carriage had quitted the paved streets of the town, and
was rolling smoothly and rapidly along over a country road. At last it
stopped, the little page jumped down and flung the door wide open, and
Leander, alighting, found himself confronted by a high, dark wall, which
seemed to inclose a park, or garden; but he did not perceive a wooden
door close at hand until his small companion, pushing back a rusty bolt,
proceeded to open it, with considerable difficulty, and admitted him
into what was apparently a thick wood.

"Take hold of my hand," said the page patronizingly to Leander, "so that
I can guide you; it is too dark for you to be able to make out the path
through this labyrinth of trees."

Leander obeyed, and both walked cautiously forward, feeling their way as
they wound in and out among the trees, and treading the crackling, dry
leaves, strewn thickly upon the ground, under their feet. Emerging from
the wood at last, they came upon a garden, laid out in the usual style,
with rows of box bordering the angular flower beds, and with yew trees,
cut into pyramids, at regular intervals; which, just perceptible in the
darkness, looked like sentinels posted on their way--a shocking sight
for the poor timid actor, who trembled in every limb. They passed them
all, however, unchallenged, and ascended some stone steps leading up to
a terrace, on which stood a small country house--a sort of pavilion,
with a dome, and little turrets at the corners. The place seemed quite
deserted, save for a subdued glimmer of light from one large window,
which the thick crimson silk curtains within could not entirely conceal.
At this reassuring sight Leander dismissed all fear from his mind, and
gave himself up to the most blissful anticipations. He was in a seventh
heaven of delight; his feet seemed to spurn the earth; he would have
flown into the presence of the waiting angel within if he had but
known the way. How he wished, in this moment of glory and triumph, that
Scapin, his mortal enemy and merciless tormentor, could see him. The
tiny page stepped on before him, and after opening a larg