first I was ignorant of; the second I had already guessed; the
third--"

He gazed at her intently.

"The third I had likewise--not doubted."

John made some hurried acknowledgment. He looked greatly pleased--nay,
more than pleased--happy. He walked forward by Miss March's side,
taking his natural place in the conversation, while I as naturally as
willingly fell behind. But I heard all they said, and joined in it now
and then.

Thus, sometimes spoken to, and sometimes left silent, watching their
two figures, and idly noting their comparative heights--her head came
just above John's shoulder--I followed these young people through the
quiet wood.

Let me say a word about that wood--dear and familiar as it was. Its
like I have never since seen. It was small--so small that in its
darkest depths you might catch the sunshine lighting up the branches of
its outside trees. A young wood, too--composed wholly of smooth-barked
beeches and sturdy Scotch firs, growing up side by side--the Adam and
Eve in this forest Eden. No old folk were there--no gnarled and
withered foresters--every tree rose up, upright in its youth, and
perfect after its kind. There was as yet no choking under-growth of
vegetation; nothing but mosses, woodbine, and ferns; and between the
boles of the trees you could trace vista after vista, as between the
slender pillars of a cathedral aisle.

John pointed out all this to Miss March, especially noticing the
peculiar character of the two species of trees--the masculine and
feminine--fir and beech. She smiled at the fancy; and much graceful
badinage went on between them. I had never before seen John in the
company of women, and I marvelled to perceive the refinement of his
language, and the poetic ideas it clothed. I forgot the truth--of
whose saying was it?--"that once in his life every man becomes a poet."

They stood by the little rivulet, and he showed her how the water came
from the spring above; the old well-head where the cattle drank; how it
took its course merrily through the woods, till at the bottom of the
valley below it grew into a wide stream.

"Small beginnings make great endings," observed Miss March,
sententiously.

John answered her with the happiest smile! He dipped his hollowed palm
into the water and drank: she did the same. Then, in her free-hearted
girlish fun, she formed a cup out of a broad leaf, which, by the
greatest ingenuity, she managed to make contain about