Her sweet, low laugh rippled out over the waters. “Your laugh is like that of a child in a happy dream. I hope it will always keep that sound.” Straining her to him a moment, he then put his hands to his face to shut out the dangerous sweetness. “Nobody but you will ever understand what my nature is, because they have never so nearly felt it.” “That’s true,” he said, “the only difference is that I know what is best for us and what is not.” “To make music, one must have genuine feeling for it; that is true of love. There has always been a sympathy between us, but never before so deep as now. The greater the love, you know, the stronger the sympathy. Natures so well tempered, so sympathetically adapted, very seldom can endure; neither can afford to indulge in the beauty of one he loves, for he may lose his own seekings in sharing hers. Ideal love is not to be satisfied.” He said this with such an expression of grief and sentiment that no one could doubt his belief in his own philosophy. This was life indeed. If he could only hold it forever. He wanted to--he longed to--might he not desecrate this beautiful soul, by intruding his upon it for so short a time? A sudden chill went through him. The horror of their ideals being endangered made him draw back. He had never entirely lost sight of the delicacy and nobility of the relation. He was her friend--her protector. Slightly moving his position, he said: “Esther, what is sweeter than comprehensive sympathy? Each knows the other’s highest aims and hopes, and each tries to help the other reach and preserve those ideals. There is something beautiful, noble in the endeavor to sustain the ideals of one we love, even though they should not always succeed.” “I believe that. The desire, the effort--shouldn’t that go for something?” “I think so, but will you always think it?” “I hope I shall.” As they anchored alongside the bank, Glenn held out his hand to help her; her cheeks were in bloom with life, and he was going home rested, with all his senses and passions much keener and many degrees finer in their possibilities. “We have had a day of delicious happiness, we should be thankful for that,” he said. “In a whole life there are but a few days in which we really live--we only exist most of the time,” lowering his voice and looking into her sweet eyes. “To be wholly happy is to forget the world and one’s obligations to it.” There was almost a caress in the way Glenn took out his handkerchief and lightly brushed the drops of water from her skirt. In putting the handkerchief back he touched the pretty trifle--a souvenir to recall her twenty-first birthday. Twirling it between his fingers he said: “This is for you. Wear it for the sake of the man who became a boy and learned what May meant.” CHAPTER III.