HELEN: Alas! not there; I cannot bear The murmur of this lake to hear. A sound from there, Rosalind dear, Which never yet I heard elsewhere But in our native land, recurs, _65 Even here where now we meet. It stirs Too much of suffocating sorrow! In the dell of yon dark chestnutwood Is a stone seat, a solitude Less like our own. The ghost of Peace _70 Will not desert this spot. To-morrow, If thy kind feelings should not cease, We may sit here. ROSALIND: Thou lead, my sweet, And I will follow. HENRY: 'Tis Fenici's seat Where you are going? This is not the way, _75 Mamma; it leads behind those trees that grow Close to the little river. HELEN: Yes: I know; I was bewildered. Kiss me and be gay, Dear boy: why do you sob? HENRY: I do not know: But it might break any one's heart to see _80 You and the lady cry so bitterly. HELEN: It is a gentle child, my friend. Go home, Henry, and play with Lilla till I come. We only cried with joy to see each other; We are quite merry now: Good-night. The boy _85 Lifted a sudden look upon his mother, And in the gleam of forced and hollow joy Which lightened o'er her face, laughed with the glee Of light and unsuspecting infancy, And whispered in her ear, 'Bring home with you _90 That sweet strange lady-friend.' Then off he flew, But stopped, and beckoned with a meaning smile, Where the road turned. Pale Rosalind the while, Hiding her face, stood weeping silently.