ING AT THE MILL.

In the depths of the water she saw the reflection of the shining stars;
she watched them intently; the pure, pale golden eyes. A voice aroused
her--a voice with tone and accent quite unlike any other voice.

"I beg your pardon," it said, "could you show me the way to Rashleigh? I
have lost myself in the wood."

Raising her eyes she saw the gentleman who had raised his hat as he
passed her in the morning. She knew that he recognized her by the light
that suddenly overspread his face.

"Rashleigh lies over there," she replied. "You have but to cross the
field and pass the church."

"Even that," said the stranger, with a careless laugh, "even that I am
not inclined to do now. It is strange. I am afraid you will think me
half mad, but it seems to me that I have just stepped into fairy land.
Two minutes since I was on the bare highway, now I see the prettiest
picture earth has to offer."

"It is pretty," she replied, her eyes looking at the clear, dimpling
pool; "prettier now even than when the sun shines on it and the wheel
turns."

She had told him the way to Rashleigh, and he should have passed on with
a bow, but this was his excuse. The moon was shining bright as day, the
wind murmured in the alder trees, the light lay on the clear, sweet,
fresh water; the music of the water as it fell was sweet to hear. Away
in the woods some night bird was singing; the odor of the sleeping
flowers filled the air; and there on the green bank, at the water's
edge, sat the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.

The moonlight fell on her exquisite southern face; it seemed to find its
home in the lustrous depths of her dark eyes; it kissed the dark ripples
of her hair, worn with the simple grace of a Greek goddess; it lay on
the white hands that played with the tufted grass.

He was young and loved all things beautiful, and therefore did not go
away. His mind was filled with wonder. Who was she--this girl, so like a
young Spanish princess! Why was she sitting here by the mill-stream? He
must know, and to know he must ask.

"I am inclined," he said, "to lie down here by this pretty stream, and
sleep all night under the stars; I am so tired."

She looked at him with a quick, warm glow of sympathy.

"What has tired you?" she asked.

He sat down on one of the great gray stones that lay half in the water,
half on the land.

"I have lost myself in the Leigh woods," he said. "I have been there
many