Frank led her through the garden to the most poetic little arbor ever Eastern dame sighed in. Recal to your mind the most beautiful poetry you ever read or dreamed of—your beau-ideal of poetry—whether it be Byron’s, Shelley’s, Shakspeare’s, your own, or Mother Goose’s, and the little poem of an arbor stands in its beauty before you. Nina’s delight was rapturous. After exhausting all the known adjectives in its praise, Nina sat quietly down within it, Francis by her side, and talked with him about music, and flowers, and poetry, and all the bright things in nature. She was playful and enthusiastic by turns. Every thing by fits, and nothing long. Frank took her hand at last—her little, soft, warm hand—and calling up a serious, tender look— “Nina,” said he, “I have traveled the world over, ay, more than once; I have seen many, very many beautiful beings; but never one like thee, sweet Nina. I will not _say_ thou art the most beautiful, but I _will_ say, thou art the most necessary to my existence, to my whole nature, of all earth contains. I love thee. _Dearest_ Nina, may I call thee mine?” “Whew! The girl and her fleet Zephyr were gone.” “Gone!—well—” “Well what, good Sprite?” “Is that all?” “Yes, my very good Sprite. What then?” “I may be allowed to criticise?” “Certainly.” “I do not like your story. It is not—” “No!” “It is neither well expressed, nor well arranged, nor at all satisfactory. The _sequel_! Were they, Frank and Nina, married? What’s a story without a wedding?” “The sequel thou shalt have; the wedding too. They _were_ married, just three weeks after the arbor scene—Frank and Nina.” “What became of Edward and Clara?” “They became one, shortly after Frank started on his thirteen years pilgrimage.” “Frank’s mother?” “Went to live with Edward and Clara. She died at a happy old age, blessed with good children, and good grand—” “Kate and George?” “Were united in the holy bands of wedlock.” “The Miss Linwoods?” “_Miss_ Linwood, never having made up her mind on ‘the all-important subject,’ remained in _statu quo_. Miss Laura Linwood eloped with a younger son’s younger son.” “Was Edward a Beverly?” “Yes.” “What was Nina’s name? Nina _what_, before she became a Beverly?” “Nina—I have forgotten what.” “Strange.” “Any thing more, good Sprite?” “Much more; you seem to forget the great importance of a moral.” “Not in the least, good natured Sprite. The moral is, doing right is its own exceeding great reward.” * * * * * [Illustration] * * * * * THE ISLETS OF THE GULF; OR, ROSE BUDD. Ay, now I am in Arden; the more fool I; when I was at home I was in a better place; but Travelers must be content. As You Like It.