hours. I had no idea what Leigh woods were like, or I should not
have gone for the first time alone."

"They are very large and intricate," she said; "I can never find the
right paths."

"Some one told me I should see the finest oak-trees in England there,"
he said, "and I have a passion for grand old oaks. I would go anywhere
to see them. I went to the woods and had very soon involved myself in
the greatest difficulties. I should never have found the way out had I
not met one of the keepers."

She liked to listen to him; the clear, refined accent, the musical tone;
as she listened a longing came over her that his voice might go on
speaking to her and of her.

"Now," he continued, embarrassed by her silence, "I have forgotten your
directions; may I ask you to repeat them?"

She did so, and looking at her face he saw there was no anger, nothing
but proud, calm content. He said to himself he need not go just yet, he
could stay a few minutes longer.

"Do you know that beautiful old German ballad," he said,

"'In sheltered vale a mill-wheel
Still tunes its tuneful lay'?"

"No; I never heard or read it," she answered. "Say it for me."

"'In sheltered vale a mill-wheel
Still tunes its tuneful lay.
My darling once did dwell there,
But now she's far away.
A ring in pledge I gave her,
And vows of love we spoke--
Those vows are all forgotten,
The ring asunder broke.'"

"Hush," she said, holding up one white hand; "hush, it is too sad. Do
you not see that the moonlight has grown dim, and the sound of the
falling waters is the sound of falling tears?"

He did not seem to understand her words.

"That song has haunted me," he said, "ever since I heard it. I must say
the last verse; it must have been of this very mill-wheel it was
written.

"'But while I hear the mill-wheel
My pains will never cease;
I would the grave could hide me,
For there alone is peace.'"

"Is it a love story?" she asked, pleased at the pathos and rhythm of the
words.

"Yes; it is the usual story--the whole love of a man's heart given to
one not worthy of it, the vows forgotten, the ring broken. Then he cries
out for the grave to hide himself and his unhappy love."

She looked up at him with dark, lustrous, gleaming eyes.

"Does all love end in sorrow?" she asked, simply.

He looked musingly at the moonlit waters, musingly at the starlit sky.

"I cannot tell," he