"Is she here yet?" I asked, eagerly grasping the hand of Grace, who, more exceedingly pretty than ever, had invited all their friends to meet them on the island, in the grove, "I am delighted to see you back. It is almost worth the absence." "And I welcome you as Noah the dove, after the waste of waters," exclaimed she, laughing. "But I must answer your first question before it is repeated. No, _mon frere_, I am afraid she is not to be here to day. She is a little ill with fatigue." "O my poor friend!" I exclaimed, and led Grace down the avenue of leafing trees in which we were; for this grove had been planted in regular walks by the garrison forty years before, and the turf had been sown with grass that sprang up at that season a vivid green. The dell had been a theatre of the gaieties of days past. To me it was deserted loveliness--a scene prepared and not occupied. "Is she very ill?" "No; merely tired. You see she is a thousand times more industrious than I. Nothing could content her over there unless she was putting out her utmost. She said it was her ambition to improve, like the great men and women; that she was strong and ought to make up for some of her imperfections by greater diligence. I never saw anyone so anxious to do a thing perfectly. The great Bertini in Florence said of her--'She will certainly be greater than Angelica Kauffman.' ... 'Alexandra,' he said, 'will rank with men.' The egotism of the creature! You see there are others who admire her besides yourself." "None more passionately." "I thought so.--But look this way, Tityrus," said she, wheeling quickly and stepping forward. "How do you do, Alexandra!" There she stood, pale and ill, but proud of carriage as ever. "So you came after all? Here is Mr. Haviland, gladder even than I to see you!" I saw Grace, in a moment, the duties of hostess being temporarily undertaken by Annie, walking down a path with soldierly Lockhart Mackenzie, who had come over from the "quarters" in his uniform. Alexandra and I found ourselves wandering into the wood and climbing the hillside at the loftiest point of the Island, where, on the summit, the trees permitted us a wide view of the St. Lawrence, its islands and ships and the open country; while the afternoon sunlight fell brokenly upon the faint colors of her face and her golden hair. "Do you admire distant landscapes?" I asked constrainedly. "They remind me of high aims and the broad views of great minds," returned she, looking outward. "You favor aiming high," I said, "I always thought so of you." She turned her glance for a moment to me, and asked seriously: "How can people aim low? Do you know the lines of Goethe:" "Thou must either strive and rise, Or thou must sink and die." Daughter of the immortals! "I wonder what you will say of _my_ aims," I stammered.