How softly it sings and talks! Maybe it is making love to the flowers." "I wish it would teach me to make love." "Perhaps it will, if you ask it to." "What shall I say to it?" "Say what you please; I cannot be "Will you interpret its answers?" your teacher." "Because you are better acquainted with its language than I am." "How did you learn that fact, admitting it to be one?" "I took the privilege of a Yankee, and guessed. Besides, I knew that from a child you loved all things which were beautiful, and understood their language." "I am well learned, then. But I am quite anxious to hear you talk to the little sparkling drops that go leaping and dancing over the rocks. Sometimes I think they clap their hands for joy." "Your imagination is active, to-night. But I will try and gratify you. 'Most beautiful water-spirits, ye who coquet all day with the sunbeams, who leap down the hillsides, and move gently through the valleys, who sing so sweetly your evening songs, making love to the flowers, forming yourselves into a mirror for the moon and stars, - teach me, ye bright angels, how to gain the heart of the one I love - I was here interrupted by a loud laugh from Helen. "That was capital," she said, "and so poetical! The water-spirits ought to feel flattered. But they will not tell you; for they would be afraid that, by the time you had gained it, you would be in love with somebody else." "You are a cruel girl!" "O, no, Henri; not a bit cruel. But hark! the bell is ringing nine; it is time to go home." "I would rather stay longer, but will do as you say." On our way home we talked upon various subjects, but I could not gain courage sufficient to offer her my hand and heart. 25 CHAPTER XXIII. TWICE REJECTED. WHEN we had arrived at the house, Helen went to her room, and I to the parlor; where I found uncle, aunt, and a young man whom they introduced as Mr. Gray. A few commonplace remarks were made, and we were relapsing into silence, when Helen came in. She appeared very glad to see Mr. Gray, and took a seat by his side; and they were soon absorbed in a conversation carried on in an undertone that nobody could understand but themselves. I sat and looked on with feelings more easily imagined than described. was really jealous, and wished Mr. Gray anywhere but there. It was bad enough to find Helen's feelings so different from what I had expected; but to meet with a rival so soon, and be obliged to endure his presence, while he appropriated Helen entirely to himself, was too much. I was as unhappy as I could reasonably be. I They conversed for some thirty minutes together, and then we entered into a general conversation. I was anxious to find him a fool, for I thought she could not love a man without good sense. His remarks convinced me that he was not a fool, and neither was he very intelligent. I was certain that he was far beneath Helen, and this gave me a vast deal of satisfaction. At his request, Helen played and sang; and he took the liberty to stand near her, select the music and turn over the leaves, with which she seemed well pleased. When she relinquished her seat, my uncle desired Mr. Gray to occupy it; and he complied with the request, and played very beautifully. "At least," thought I, "there is one thing about him which will be attractive to Helen, love of music." his I remained until after ten o'clock; and, as Mr. Gray did not manifest any intentions of going, and fearing that my room was preferable to my company, I bade them goodnight, and went to my chamber. It was between eleven and twelve when he took his departure. I was then too jealous and miserable to expect to sleep, if I sought my bed; so I remained up long enough to compose the following lines, which I insert, not because of their poetical merit, but because they serve to show the state of my mind at that time. A very little thing made me jealous, and fearful that Helen had given her heart to another. I know a glad and beautiful maiden, Who warbles a bird-like glee; How long I've prayed that she might love me! Alas! my prayers are vain; My lot is dark, like skies above me, That lower with storm and rain; I've loved her as I've loved no other, 'Tis useless, sad regret, She loves me not, but loves another, And her I would forget! After I had finished the above, I retired; but it was nearly morning before I fell asleep, and then I dreamed |