For a while they sat silent, in the midst of the profound and
measureless calm. Looking down upon the dim moonlit abyss at their feet,
they themselves seemed a part of this night that arched above it; the
half-risen moon appeared to linger long enough at their side to enwrap
and suffuse them with its glory; a few bright stars quietly ringed
themselves around them, and looked wonderingly into the level of their
own shining eyes. For some vague yearning to humanity seemed to draw
this dark and passionless void towards them. The vast protecting
maternity of Nature leant hushed and breathless over the solitude. Warm
currents of air rose occasionally from the valley, which one might have
believed were sighs from its full and overflowing breast, or a grateful
coolness swept their cheeks and hair when the tranquil heights around
them were moved to slowly respond. Odors from invisible bay and
laurel sometimes filled the air; the incense of some rare and remoter
cultivated meadow beyond their ken, or the strong germinating breath
of leagues of wild oats, that had yellowed the upland by day. In the
silence and shadow, their voices took upon themselves, almost without
their volition, a far-off confidential murmur, with intervals of meaning
silence--rather as if their thoughts had spoken for themselves, and they
had stopped wonderingly to listen. They talked at first vaguely to this
discreet audience of space and darkness, and then, growing bolder, spoke
to each other and of themselves. Invested by the infinite gravity of
nature, they had no fear of human ridicule to restrain their youthful
conceit or the extravagance of their unimportant confessions.
They talked of their tastes, of their habits, of their friends
and acquaintances. They settled some points of doctrine, duty, and
etiquette, with the sweet seriousness of youth and its all-powerful
convictions. The listening vines would have recognized no flirtation or
love-making in their animated but important confidences; yet when Mrs.