for the fairest of all things in a
garden, and in summer-time most useful, is a brook of crystal water;
where a man may come and meditate, and the flowers may lean and see
themselves, and the rays of the sun are purfied. Now partly with her own
white hands, and partly with Gwenny's red ones, Lorna had made of this
sunny spot a haven of beauty to dwell in. It was not only that colours
lay in the harmony we would seek of them, neither was it the height of
plants, sloping to one another; nor even the delicate tone of foliage
following suit, and neighbouring. Even the breathing of the wind, soft
and gentle in and out, moving things that need not move, and passing
longer-stalked ones, even this was not enough among the flush of
fragrance, to tell a man the reason of his quiet satisfaction. But so it
shall for ever be. As the river we float upon (with wine, and flowers,
and music,) is nothing at the well-spring but a bubble without reason.

Feeling many things, but thinking without much to guide me, over the
grass-plats laid between, I went up to Lorna. She in a shower of damask
roses, raised her eyes and looked at me. And even now, in those sweet
eyes, so deep with loving-kindness, and soft maiden dreamings, there
seemed to be a slight unwilling, half confessed withdrawal; overcome by
love and duty, yet a painful thing to see.

'Darling,' I said, 'are your spirits good? Are you strong enough to-day,
to bear a tale of cruel sorrow; but which perhaps, when your tears are
shed, will leave you all the happier?'

'What can you mean?' she answered trembling, not having been vey strong
of late, and now surprised at my manner; 'are you come to give me up,
John?'

'Not very likely,' I replied; 'neither do I hope such a thing would
leave you all the happier. Oh, Lorna, if you can think that so quickly
as you seem to have done, now you have every prospect and strong
temptation to it. You are far, far above me in the world, and I have no
right to claim you. Perhaps, when you have heard these tidings you will
say, "John Ridd, begone; your life and mine are parted."'

'Will I?' cried Lorna, with all the brightness of her playful ways
returning: 'you very foolish and jealous John, how shall I punish you
for this? Am I to forsake every flower I have, and not even know that
the world goes round, while I look up at you, the whole day long and
say, "John, I love, love, love you?"'

During these words she leaned upon me, half in gay imit