steeper, till he came at last to one of the most lovely places he
thought he had ever set eyes upon. The stream ended suddenly in a
great clear pool, among a clump of old sycamores; the water rose
brimming out of the earth, and he could see the sand fountains
rising and falling at the bottom of the basin; by the side of it
was a broad stone seat, with carved back and ends. There was not a
house in sight; beyond there was only the green valley-end running
up into the down, which was here densely covered with thickets. It
was perfectly still; and the only sound was the liquid springing of
the water in the pool, and the birds singing in the bushes. Howard
had a sudden sense that the place held a significance for him. Had
he been there before, in some dream or vision? He could not tell;
but it was strangely familiar to him. Even so the trees had leaned
together, and the clear ripples pulsed upon the bank. Something
strange and beautiful had befallen him there. What was it? The mind
could not unravel the secret.

He sat there long in the sun, his eyes fixed upon the pool, in a
blissful content that was beyond thought. Then he slowly retraced
his steps, full of an intense inner happiness.

He found his aunt in the garden, sitting out in the sun. He bent
down to kiss her, and she detained his hand for a moment. "So you
are at home?" she said, "and happy?--that is what I had wished and
hoped. You have been to the pool--yes, that is a lovely spot. It
was that, I think, which made your uncle buy the place; he had a
great love of water--and in my unhappy days here, when I had lost
him, I used often to go there and wish things were otherwise. But
that is all over now!"