Raising her eyes she saw the gentleman who had raised his hat as he passed her in the morning. She knew that he recognized her by the light that suddenly overspread his face. "Rashleigh lies over there," she replied. "You have but to cross the field and pass the church." "Even that," said the stranger, with a careless laugh, "even that I am not inclined to do now. It is strange. I am afraid you will think me half mad, but it seems to me that I have just stepped into fairy land. Two minutes since I was on the bare highway, now I see the prettiest picture earth has to offer." "It is pretty," she replied, her eyes looking at the clear, dimpling pool; "prettier now even than when the sun shines on it and the wheel turns." She had told him the way to Rashleigh, and he should have passed on with a bow, but this was his excuse. The moon was shining bright as day, the wind murmured in the alder trees, the light lay on the clear, sweet, fresh water; the music of the water as it fell was sweet to hear. Away in the woods some night bird was singing; the odor of the sleeping flowers filled the air; and there on the green bank, at the water's edge, sat the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. The moonlight fell on her exquisite southern face; it seemed to find its home in the lustrous depths of her dark eyes; it kissed the dark ripples of her hair, worn with the simple grace of a Greek goddess; it lay on the white hands that played with the tufted grass. He was young and loved all things beautiful, and therefore did not go away. His mind was filled with wonder. Who was she--this girl, so like a young Spanish princess! Why was she sitting here by the mill-stream? He must know, and to know he must ask. "I am inclined," he said, "to lie down here by this pretty stream, and sleep all night under the stars; I am so tired." She looked at him with a quick, warm glow of sympathy. "What has tired you?" she asked. He sat down on one of the great gray stones that lay half in the water, half on the land. "I have lost myself in the Leigh woods," he said. "I have been there many hours. I had no idea what Leigh woods were like, or I should not have gone for the first time alone." "They are very large and intricate," she said; "I can never find the right paths." "Some one told me I should see the finest oak-trees in England there," he said, "and I have a passion for grand old oaks. I would go anywhere to see them. I went to the woods and had very soon involved myself in the greatest difficulties. I should never have found the way out had I not met one of the keepers." She liked to listen to him; the clear, refined accent, the musical tone; as she listened a longing came over her that his voice might go on speaking to her and of her. "Now," he continued, embarrassed by her silence, "I have forgotten your directions; may I ask you to repeat them?"