is romantic when we come to know it. When I first went up to
Cambridge, there were many places there that seemed to me to be so
interesting: walls which seemed to hide gardens full of thickets,
strange doorways by which no one ever passed out or in, barred
windows giving upon dark courts, out of which no one ever seemed to
look. But now that I know them all from the inside, they seem
commonplace enough. The hidden garden is a place where Dons smoke
and play bowls; the barred window is an undergraduate's gyp-room;
there's no mystery left about them now. This place as I see it to-
day--well, it seems the most romantic place in the world, full of
unutterable secrets of life and death; but I suppose it may all
come to wear a perfectly natural air to me some day."

"That is what I like so much about Cousin Anne," said Maud;
"nothing seems to be commonplace to her, and she puts back the
mystery and wonder into it all. One must learn to do that for
oneself somehow."

"Yes, she's a great woman!" said Howard; "but what shall we do
now?"

"Oh, I am sorry," said Maud, "I have been keeping you all this
time--wouldn't you like to go and look for Jack? I think I heard a
shot just now up the valley."

"No," said Howard, looking at her and smiling, "we won't go and
look for Jack to-day; he has quite enough of my company. I want
your company to-day, and only yours. I want to get used to my new-
found cousin."