pear deserted."

"I shall be glad," said Bearwarden, gloomily, "when those moons wane
and are succeeded by their fellows, for one would give me an attack of
the blues, while the other would subject me to the inconvenience of
falling in love."

As he spoke, the upper branches of the trees in the grove began to sway
as a cold gust from the north sighed among them. "Lose no more
opportunities," it seemed to cry, "for life is short and uncertain.
Soon you will all be colder than I, and your future, still as easily
moulded as clay, will be set as Marpesian marble, more fixed than the
hardest rock."

"Paradise," said Cortlandt, "contains sights and sounds that might, I
should think, arouse sad reminiscences without the aid of the waters of
Lethe, unless the joy of its souls in their new resources and the sense
of forgiveness outweigh all else."

With a parting look at the refined, silvery moon, and its sorrow-laden
companion, they retired to the sheltering cave, piled up the fire, and
talked on for an hour.

"I do not see how it is," said Bearwarden, "that these moons,
considering their distance from the sun, and the consequently small
amount of light they receive, are so bright."

"A body's brightness in reflecting light," replied Cortlandt, "depends
as much on the colour and composition of its own surface as on the
amount it receives. It is conceivable that these moons, if placed at
the earth's distance from the sun, would be far brighter than our moon,
and that our familiar satellite, if removed to Saturn, would seem very
dim. We know how much more brilliant a mountain in the sunlight is
when clad in snow than when its sides are bare. These moons evidently
reflect a large proportion of the light they receive."

When they came out shortly after midnight the girl's-face moon had
already set, leaving a dark and dreary void in the part of the sky it
had so ideally filled. The inexpressibly sad satellite (on account of
its shorter distance and more rapid rate of revolution) was still above
the horizon, and, being slightly tilted, had a more melancholy,
heart-broken look than before. While they gazed sadly at the emptiness
left by Dione, Cortlandt saw Ayrault's expression change, and, not
clearly perceiving its cause, said, wishing to cheer him: "Never mind,
Dick; to-morrow night we shall see it again."

"Ah, prosaic reasoner," retorted Bearwarden, who saw that this, like so
many other things, had reminded Ayrau