at broke from her as she passed me. I could perceive
by the receding of the sound, that she had gone on without stopping.
Lilian followed at a distance of about ten paces. Her body was bent to
one side by the weight of the water-can; while her long golden-hair,
falling in confusion over the straining arm, almost swept the sward at
her feet. The toilsome attitude only displayed in greater perfection
the splendid development of that feminine form--which death alone could
now hinder me from calling my own.

I had already planned my course of action. I only waited for an
opportunity to carry it out. No longer desired I to remain unrecognised
by her. The barrier that had hitherto restrained me from giving sign or
word--and that would still have continued to do so--had now been
removed, happily as unexpectedly. In my heart, now filled and thrilling
with joy, there was no motive for further concealment; and I resolved at
once to declare myself. Not openly, however; not by speech, nor yet by
gesture. Either might provoke an exclamation; and draw upon us prying
eyes that were observing at no great distance. As stated, I had already
shaped out my course; and, for a minute or more, had been waiting for
the very opportunity that now offered.

During the conversation above detailed, I had not been an inactive
listener. I had taken from my pocket a scrap of paper, and pencilled
upon it three simple words. I knew the paper on which I was writing: it
was the half-leaf of a letter well-remembered. The letter itself was
not there: it was within the folds of my pocket-book; but there was
writing on the fly-leaf, and on both faces of it. On one side were
those cherished verses, whose sweet simple strain, still vibrating upon
the chords of my heart, I cannot help repeating:

"I think of thee, when Morning springs
From sleep, with plumage bathed in dew,
And like a young bird lifts her wings
Of gladness on the welkin blue.
And when at Noon the breath of love
O'er flower and stream is wandering free,
And sent in music from the grove,
I think of thee--I think of thee!

"I think of thee, when soft and wide
The Evening spreads her robe of light;
And, like a young and timid bride,
Sits blushing in the arms of night.
And when the moon's sweet crescent springs
In light o'er heaven's deep waveless sea;
And stars are forth like blessed things,
I think of thee--I think of thee!"