As she entered the dell, he rose to meet her, and the birds sung in concert a melancholy strain, which she answered, and made them more melancholy still.
"Rosalie!" said Sylvester. "Rosalie!"
Rosalie started at the sound of his voice, and having looked at him, blushed and became herself again. Again the butterflies in myriads came forth: again the lake shone like crystal; again the birds sang in their sweetest strain, and again the flowers bloomed and waived, inspired with joy by her beautiful smile.
"Rosalie!" continued Sylvester, "sweet Rosalie!"
Rosalie silently glided to the couch, and having taken her seat at one end, with a smile, pointed to the other, upon which in an instant Sylvester sat, and as they looked at each other with expressions of love, birds of Paradise playfully floated between them.
"Sweet youth!" she exclaimed, in a voice which on his ear like celestial music; but her countenance changed; she again became sad: the birds ceased to sing, and the flowers ceased to bloom, and the butterflies fell as if dead.
Why what could be the cause of this? Was she not well?—or had he been too presumptuous?
"Rosalie!" he exclaimed, after a pause, during which they sighed in unison; "Rosalie!"—why are you thus? I love you Rosalie!—sweetest! I love you!"
Rosalie again sighed, and bowed her head in sadness.
"Rosalie!—Rosalie: why are you sad? 'Tell me, my sweet one! Tell me."
"My beautiful boy!" she exclaimed, and as she spoke, her soft eyes swam in liquid love. "Oh! that I were mortal!"
"Mortal!" echoed Sylvester—Are you not mortal?"
"Alas!" she replied, "I am but a spirit!"
"Then lovely spirit let me dwell with you here?"
"It cannot be until you are also a spirit. Then will the purest joy be ours."
"But now, sweet Rosalie!—let me dwell here with you now?"
"It is, alas! impossible. But even while this mortal barrier exists I shall ever be near you: I will watch over, guard, and protect you. When you are sad, I shall be also sad: when you are happy, I shall be happy too."
"But, Rosalie!—dear Rosalie!—my love!—I cannot leave thee!"
Rosalie smiled; and by that smile he felt so inspired, that he rose to embrace her; but in an instant the butterflies flew in a mass before him, and, by shaking the downy feathers from their wings into his eyes, compelled him for a moment to close them!—when they were re-opened, all had vanished, and he found himself sitting again in the arbour.
Having dwelt for a time on the beautiful scene from which he had thus been shut out, he with a heavy heart languidly returned to the cottage, and omitting again to close the outer door, proceeded at once to his chamber.
During the whole of this time the reverend gentleman and Jones were
