ght morning sun blessed us with a benison of light; the sweet,
cool, scented air laid its thousand tiny hands lightly upon our faces,
and the green stretches of country all around us spoke of an earthly
paradise. For a while we said nothing, for that sorceress, June, had
thrown her web about us, and we were moving as through the vistas of a
dream. Once I glanced at my companion, and I saw such a peaceful, happy,
yet thoroughly unconscious look upon her face that I stayed the casual
remark upon my tongue which I felt that courtesy required. Then it
dawned upon me with the suddenness of a revelation that her nature was
attuned to mine, and all at once I knew that the sylvan sounds and
scenes which were the delight of my soul were as manna to hers as well.
And I had shunned her!

"I fear you will think me a poor escort," she said at length, smiling at
me with a trace of sadness. "But I have been away so long, and all these
meadows, and trees, and brooks are friends--you don't know how I love
them. I have lived with them and in them since I could walk, and it is
like seeing dear ones in the flesh to come back and be with them, and
hold silent communion with them. Does this sound strange to you?"

"No." And yet I looked at her half perplexedly. My idols were being
shattered one by one. "No, it is not strange to me that such feelings
exist, for they are my own. That was why I sought this old-fashioned
Kentucky home. I lived in Louisville until I came here, and my soul was
being crushed out of me between four brick walls. I have been happy
here; I did not know what happiness was until I came here--except that
derived from books. But that sort of happiness you feel; this sort you
live, and your being is broadened by it. But you--I confess it sounds
strange to me to hear you say such things."

"Why should I not know them as well as you? My opportunities have been
greater."

"I don't know; I have no reason to give. In my ignorance and selfishness
I had thought that I was alone in this; that no one could listen to
Nature's secrets but myself. I have been wrong, and I am glad that I
have been undeceived."

The congeniality which became quickly established between us made our
seven-mile ride very short. Our horses were in good mettle, and the road
was fine. Before I knew where we were, we turned into a by-road bordered
by locust trees, and cantered down to St. Catherine's Academy. The lawn
before the three-story brick building