him
much if he had failed to do so; yet it did not occur to her that she was
learning to love him. She would have laughed with girlish scorn at the
idea. She liked him very much; she thought his nature beautiful in
its simplicity and purity; in spite of his shyness she felt more
delightfully at home in his society than in that of any other person she
had ever met. He was one of those rare souls whose friendship is at once
a pleasure and a benediction, showering light from their own crystal
clearness into all the dark corners in the souls of others, until, for
the time being at least, they reflected his own nobility. But she never
thought of love. Like other girls she had her dreams of a possible
Prince Charming, young and handsome and debonair. It never occurred
to her that he might be found in the shy, dreamy recluse of Golden
Milestone.

In August came a day of gold and blue. Alice Reade, coming through the
trees, with the wind blowing her little dark love-locks tricksily about
under her wide blue hat, found a fragrant heap of mignonette under
the pine. She lifted it and buried her face in it, drinking in the
wholesome, modest perfume.

She had hoped Jasper would be in his garden, since she wished to ask him
for a book she greatly desired to read. But she saw him sitting on the
rustic seat at the further side. His back was towards her, and he was
partially screened by a copse of lilacs.

Alice, blushing slightly, unlatched the garden gate, and went down the
path. She had never been in the garden before, and she found her heart
beating in a strange fashion.

He did not hear her footsteps, and she was close behind him when she
heard his voice, and realized that he was talking to himself, in a low,
dreamy tone. As the meaning of his words dawned on her consciousness she
started and grew crimson. She could not move or speak; as one in a
dream she stood and listened to the shy man's reverie, guiltless of any
thought of eavesdropping.

"How much I love you, Alice," Jasper Dale was saying, unafraid, with no
shyness in voice or manner. "I wonder what you would say if you knew.
You would laugh at me--sweet as you are, you would laugh in mockery. I
can never tell you. I can only dream of telling you. In my dream you are
standing here by me, dear. I can see you very plainly, my sweet lady, so
tall and gracious, with your dark hair and your maiden eyes. I can dream
that I tell you my love; that--maddest, sweetest dream of a