fern that was but half uncurled, and it flashed in the sunlit places
and tinkled from the deep black shadows, ever racing faster as if to
see what more the forest had to show. The young man's look had been
anxious before, but he brightened in spite of himself in the company
of the streamlet.

Not far beyond was a place where a tiny rill flowed down from the
high rocks above, and where the path broadened out considerably. It
was a darkly shadowed spot, and the little rill was gathered in a
sunken barrel, which the genius of the place had made haste to cover
with the green uniform worn by all else that was to be seen. Beside
the spring thus formed the young man seated himself, and after
glancing impatiently at his watch, turned his gaze upon the beauty
that was about him. Upon the neighboring rocks the columbine and
harebell held high revel, but he did not notice them so much as a
new sight that flashed upon his eye; for the pool where the two
streamlets joined was like a nest which the marsh-marigold had taken
for its home. The water was covered with its bright green and
yellow, and the young man gazed at the blossoms with eager delight,
until finally he knelt and plucked a few of them, which he laid,
cool and gleaming, upon the seat by the spring.

The flowers did not hold his attention very long, however; he rose
up and turned away towards where, a few steps beyond, the open
country could be seen between the tree trunks. Beyond the edge of
the woods was a field, through which the footpath and the streamlet
both ran, the former to join a road leading to a little town which
lay in the distance. The landscape was beautiful in its morning
freshness, but it was not that which the young man thought of; he
had given but one glance before he started back with a slight