The young man smiled with pleased surprise; for he had not expected to find appreciation of such sentiments in the teacher of a secluded country school. He took up a volume of Mary Howitt’s Birds and Flowers, and saw the name of Alice White written in it. On all blank spaces were fastened delicate young fern leaves, and small bits of richly-tinted moss. He glanced at the low ceiling, and the rude benches. “This seems not the appropriate temple for such a spirit,” thought he. “But, after all, what consequence is that, since such spirits find temples everywhere?” He took a pencil from his pocket, and marked in Bettine’s Letters: “Thou hast feeling for the every-day life of nature. Dawn, noon-tide, and evening clouds are thy dear companions, with whom thou canst converse when no man is abroad with thee. Let me be thy scholar in simplicity.” He wrote his initials on the page. “Perhaps I shall never see this young teacher,” thought he; “but it will be a little mystery, in her unexciting life, to conjecture what curious eye has been peeping into her books.” Then he queried with himself, “How do I know she is a _young_ teacher?” He stood leaning against the window, looking on the beds of flowers, and the vine leaves brushed his hair, as the breeze played with them. They seemed to say that a young heart planted them. He remembered the clear, feminine voice he had heard humming the dancing-tune, in the spring time. He thought of the mosses and ferns in the book. “Oh, yes, she _must_ be young and beautiful,” thought he. “She cannot be otherwise than beautiful, with such tastes.” He stood for some moments in half dreaming reverie. Then a broad smile went over his face. He was making fun of himself. “What consequence is it to me whether she be either beautiful or young?” said he inwardly. “I must be hungry for an adventure, to indulge so much curiosity about a country schoolmistress.” The smile was still on his face, when he heard a light step, and Alice White stood before him. She blushed to see a stranger in her little sanctuary, and he blushed at the awkwardness of his situation. He apologized, by saying that the beauty of the little garden, and the tasteful arrangement of the vines, had attracted his attention, and, perceiving that the school-house was empty, he had taken the liberty to enter. She readily forgave the intrusion, and said she was glad if the humble little spot refreshed the eyes of those who passed by, for it had given her great pleasure to cultivate it. The young man was disappointed; for she was not at all like the picture his imagination had painted. But the tones of her voice were flexible, and there was something pleasing in her quiet but timid manner. Not knowing what to say, he bowed and took leave.