From that moment new and deeper feelings began to mingle with the memory of Louise; hopes and visions, and fancies bright and enchanting, dreams of joy and satisfaction in meeting her again; aspirations to conquer every difficulty and overcome all resistance, till I had raised myself high for her sake. Was this love, or merely a dream of the fancy--a boyish fondness for the girl that had been brought up with me? I cannot well tell, but I think not; for love can have no greater intensity of regard and affection than I felt towards Louise de Blancford: imagination might gild it, but does not imagination gild love also? It wanted something, indeed. I had looked upon Louise with fondness, I can scarcely say that it was with admiration, for I had been so much accustomed to the sight of her beauty that I did not know how beautiful she was, even as a girl, till afterward, in comparing the beauty of others whom I saw with her image in my memory, I found that there was none at all like her. If there was anything wanting, however, to make that which I felt towards her love of the deepest, the most intense, the tenderest, the most passionate nature, it was wanting no longer after that night; the dear embrace which she had given me when first we met; the touch of her hand when we came up with her after the little skirmish; the holding her in my arms and to my bosom as I carried her from her horse into the building; the anxiety for her, the fear, the tenderness, the care, gave warmer, nearer, more engaging, if not more intense sensations to my affection for her; and from that moment I felt I loved her with all the fire and energy of passion. By the warmth of the fire Louise soon began to revive, her eyes to sparkle brightly again, the natural colour to come into her lips and cheeks, the icy hand to grow warm and soft. She had been scarcely able to speak when we entered, but now she answered my eager words kindly though briefly, and added a bright smile, and let her hand press mine, to thank me more than she was able to do in words. Oh! how beautiful did she look then, as gradually the bright returning stream of life flowed more rapidly through her veins, and every moment seemed to bring out some new loveliness. I cannot but think that so must have looked the ivory statue of the Greek sculptor, when his prayer of love was heard, and it was kindled into sudden being. She was changed, much changed since last I saw her: she was now just sixteen; and what a difference one year will make at that period of life! every alteration had been an addition to the beauty that she possessed before: she was now a woman, when I had left her a girl, and the brightness of perfection had been added to the rich promise of beauty.