Well do we know the indescribable beauty of Achensee on a fine evening at sunset, for we too have stood on its brink at that hour, gazing into its waters, and watching the shadows flitting over them, but
that is, with the heart's void unfilled save by a vague ideal. What must it be to stand there beside the one all-absorbing love of one's life! And Flora knew what that was now, as she leaned against a tree with her hat in her hand, the light breeze ruffling her luxuriant hair.
"Miss Adair," exclaimed Mr. Earnscliffe, suddenly, "can you not picture to yourself in such a scene as this the interview between Rudens and Bertha in Schiller's 'William Tell'?... Oh! I can feel with Rudens as he says,
"Könnt ihr mit mir euch in das stille Thal Entschliessen und der Erde Glanz entsagen-- O, dann ist meines Strebens Ziel gefunden; Dann mag der Storm der wildbewegten Welt Ans sichre Ufer dieser Berge schlagen-- Kein flüchtiges Verlangen hab' ich mehr Hinaus zu senden in des Lebens Weiten-- Dann mögen diese Felsen um uns her Die undurchdringlich feste Mauer breiten, Und dies verschlossne sel'ge Thal allein Zum Himmel offen und gelichtet seyn!"[1]
Flora, as if in a sort of dream, began Bertha's answer--
"Why do you stop, Miss Adair?" asked Mr. Earnscliffe, eagerly. "Why break the charm which you shed around me--that of being with one who responds to each implied thought and feeling?"
"I see that we have been carried away by Schiller's beautiful poetry even to the forgetting that mamma and Marie have preceded us by some minutes towards home. Pray let us make haste to overtake them," answered Flora, blushing more than ever, and moving away. Mr. Earnscliffe was at her side in a moment, and said, "Yes, we will follow them, but as we go you must hear me, Miss Adair. I can wait no longer to have my fate decided. Over each hill and through each dale of this lovely land have I wandered before, but never until now have I _felt_ its beauty to the full; never until now have I known--to use your own poet's words--the 'soft magic' of having one, the beloved of my heart near me,
'To make every dear scene of enchantment more dear,'
She made a slight motion of assent, but did not look up, and he continued, "Yet I must not ask you for an answer until I have given you--though painful be the task--a short sketch of my life, so that you may know me as I _really_ am before you decide for or against me, and also that hereafter none may have the power to tell you aught of my earlier days that you have not already heard from my own lips.... Left an orphan, whilst still almost a baby, I was consigned to the guardianship of an uncle, and most honourably did he fulfil the trust; but I could no more love that imperturbable, just man, who was _coldly_ kind upon principle, than fire and water could blend. He was not married, so I had no aunt or cousins to whom I could attach myself, and it was a joy rather than a grief to me that I was sent to school when very young. I applied with unusual ardour to study, and gloried in the power which I possessed of being first among my companions, and in my facility for mastering foreign tongues.... I lived among the ancients--those master spirits of old who by their nobility of soul rose above the debasing vice of their age, and stood forth as bright examples of the great power of man's own mind and will unaided and unrestrained by the fetters of modern society or Christianity. Thus I passed from a studious, dreamy youth, to man's estate. I was ardent and enthusiastic, full of glowing ideals of moral beauty and excellence, and, with all the prestige of high birth and wealth to assure me a favourable reception from the world, I was launched into the vortex of London life. I tasted of all its pleasures; I was courted and sought after; yet by most people I was looked upon as being