In this town was a roof-tree which was a haven of rest to The Dreamer. Beneath it dwelt his friend and confidant, "Annie" Richmond--his soul's sweet "sister," as he loved to call her. And there he waited with a chastened joy, for he felt assured that the long wished for _yes_ was about to be said, yet dared not give himself over prematurely, to the ecstacy that would soon be his. In the pleasant, friendly family circle of the Richmonds, he sat during those chill November evenings, seeing pictures in the glowing fire, as he held sweet "Annie's" sympathetic hand in his, while the only sound that broke the silence was the ticking of the grandfather's clock in a shadowy corner. Thus quietly, patiently, he waited. * * * * * But in Providence the Griswold poison was at work. All the friends and relatives of "Helen" were possessed of full vials of it--which they industriously poured into her ears. Against it the recollection of the night in the garden and her belief that Fate had ordained her union with the poet, had no avail. The letter that she sent her lover was more non-committal--colder--than any he had received from her before, yet there was still enough of indecision in it to keep him tantalized. In a state of mind well nigh distraction, he bade "Annie" and her cheerful fireside farewell and set his face toward Providence; but he went in a dream--the demon Despair, possessing him. Unstrung, unmanned, almost bereft of reason, his old dissatisfaction with himself and the world overtook him--a longing to be out of it all, for forgetfulness, for peace, yea, even the peace of the grave,--why not? A passionate longing--a homesickness--for the sure, the steadfast, the unvariable love of his beautiful Virginia consumed him. Oh, if he could but lie down and sleep and forget until one sweet day he should wake in the land where she awaited him, and where they would construct anew, and for eternity, the Valley of the Many-Colored Grass! He listened.... For the first time since the Star of Love had ushered in a new day in his life, he heard the swinging of the censers of the angels--he inhaled the incense--he heard the voice of Virginia in the sighing wind. She seemed to call to him. "I am coming, Heartsease!" he whispered as he quaffed the potion that he reckoned would bear him to her. * * * * * But it was not to be. When he awaked, weak and ill, but sane, he found himself with friends. Calmness and strength returned and with them, horror at the deed he had so nearly committed, and deep contrition. With all haste he again presented himself at the door of "Helen," beseeching her to marry him at once and save him, as he believed she only could, from himself. And the consequences of her indecision making her more alarmed for him than she had formerly been for herself, she agreed to an engagement, though not to immediate marriage.