for his tears filled his eyes. This was Julie's first word of thanks
since they left Paris a year ago.

For a whole year he had watched over the Marquise, putting his whole
self into the task. D'Aiglemont seconding him, he had taken her first
to Aix, then to la Rochelle, to be near the sea. From moment to moment
he had watched the changes worked in Julie's shattered constitution by
his wise and simple prescriptions. He had cultivated her health as an
enthusiastic gardener might cultivate a rare flower. Yet, to all
appearance, the Marquise had quietly accepted Arthur's skill and care
with the egoism of a spoiled Parisienne, or like a courtesan who has
no idea of the cost of things, nor of the worth of a man, and judges
of both by their comparative usefulness to her.

The influence of places upon us is a fact worth remarking. If
melancholy comes over us by the margin of a great water, another
indelible law of our nature so orders it that the mountains exercise a
purifying influence upon our feelings, and among the hills passion
gains in depth by all that it apparently loses in vivacity. Perhaps it
was the light of the wide country by the Loire, the height of the fair
sloping hillside on which the lovers sat, that induced the calm bliss
of the moment when the whole extent of the passion that lies beneath a
few insignificant-sounding words is divined for the first time with a
delicious sense of happiness.

Julie had scarcely spoken the words which had moved Lord Grenville so
deeply, when a caressing breeze ruffled the treetops and filled the
air with coolness from the river; a few clouds crossed the sky, and
the soft cloud-shadows brought out all the beauty of the fair land
below.