ngth and spirits.
Adam watched her with a masculine sense of the justice of the
retribution which his wilful comrade had brought upon herself. But as he
saw the elasticity leave her steps, the color fade from her cheeks, the
resolute mouth relax, and the wistful eyes dim once or twice with tears
of weariness and vexation, pity got the better of pique, and he
relented. His steady tramp came to a halt, and stopping by a wayside
spring, he pointed to a mossy stone, saying with no hint of superior
powers--

"We are tired, let us rest."

Sylvia dropped down at once, and for a few minutes neither spoke, for
the air was full of sounds more pertinent to the summer night than human
voices. From the copse behind them, came the coo of wood-pigeons, from
the grass at their feet the plaintive chirp of crickets; a busy breeze
whispered through the willow, the little spring dripped musically from
the rock, and across the meadows came the sweet chime of a bell.
Twilight was creeping over forest, hill, and stream, and seemed to drop
refreshment and repose upon all weariness of soul and body, more
grateful to Sylvia, than the welcome seat and leafy cup of water Warwick
brought her from the spring.

The appearance of a thirsty sparrow gave her thoughts a pleasant turn,
for, sitting motionless, she watched the little creature trip down to
the pool, drink and bathe, then flying to a willow spray, dress its
feathers, dry its wings, and sit chirping softly as if it sang its
evening hymn. Warwick saw her interest, and searching in his pocket,
found the relics of a biscuit, strewed a few bits upon the ground before
him, and began a low, sweet whistle, which rose gradually to a varied
strain, alluring, spirited, and clear as any bird voice of the wood.
Little sparrow ceased his twitter, listened with outstretched neck and
eager eye, hopping restlessly from twig to twig, until he hung just over
the musician's head, agitated with a small flutter of surprise, delight,
and doubt. Gathering a crumb or two into his hand, Warwick held it
toward the bird, while softer, sweeter, and more urgent rose the
invitation, and nearer and nearer drew the winged guest, fascinated by
the spell.

Suddenly a belated blackbird lit upon the wall, surveyed the group and
burst into a jubilant song, that for a moment drowned his rival's notes.
Then, as if claiming the reward, he fluttered to the grass, ate his
fill, took a sip from the mossy basin by the way, and fle