ion gave him the reflected
image of his own heart.

St. Aubert, as he sometimes lingered to examine the wild plants in his
path, often looked forward with pleasure to Emily and Valancourt, as
they strolled on together; he, with a countenance of animated delight,
pointing to her attention some grand feature of the scene; and she,
listening and observing with a look of tender seriousness, that spoke
the elevation of her mind. They appeared like two lovers who had
never strayed beyond these their native mountains; whose situation had
secluded them from the frivolities of common life, whose ideas were
simple and grand, like the landscapes among which they moved, and who
knew no other happiness, than in the union of pure and affectionate
hearts. St. Aubert smiled, and sighed at the romantic picture of
felicity his fancy drew; and sighed again to think, that nature and
simplicity were so little known to the world, as that their pleasures
were thought romantic.

'The world,' said he, pursuing this train of thought, 'ridicules a
passion which it seldom feels; its scenes, and its interests, distract
the mind, deprave the taste, corrupt the heart, and love cannot exist
in a heart that has lost the meek dignity of innocence. Virtue and taste
are nearly the same, for virtue is little more than active taste, and
the most delicate affections of each combine in real love. How then are
we to look for love in great cities, where selfishness, dissipation, and
insincerity supply the place of tenderness, simplicity and truth?'

It was near noon, when the travellers, having arrived at a piece of
steep and dangerous road, alighted to walk. The road wound up an ascent,
that was clothed with wood, and, instead of following the carriage, they
entered the refreshing shade. A dewy coolness was diffused upon the air,
which, with the bright verdure of turf, that grew under the trees, the
mingled fragrance of flowers and of balm, thyme, and lavender, that
enriched it, and the grandeur of the pines, beech, and chestnuts, that
overshadowed them, rendered this a most delicious retreat. Sometimes,
the thick foliage excluded all view of the country; at others, it
admitted some partial catches of the distant scenery, which gave
hints to the imagination to picture landscapes more interesting, more
impressive, than any that had been presented to the eye. The wanderers
often lingered to indulge in these reveries of fancy.

The pauses of silence, such as