"Perhaps I will tell you some time," I answered hesitatingly; then
added reverently, "It was of a very sacred nature."

"Thee's right," she said, gravely. "Far be it from me to wish to look
curiously upon thy soul's communion."

For a moment I felt guilty that I should have so misled her, but
reassured myself with the thought, "That which I dwelt upon was as
sacred to me as my mother's memory."

I changed the subject, and sought by every means in my power to lead
her to talk, for thus, I thought, I shall learn the full source of
womanly life from which the peerless daughter has drawn her nature.

The kind old lady needed but little incentive. Her thoughts flowed
freely in a quaint, sweet vernacular that savored of the meeting-
house. I was both interested and charmed, and as we rode at a quiet
jog through the June sunlight felt that I was in the hands of a kindly
fate that, in accordance with the old fairy tales, was bent on giving
one poor mortal all he desired.

At last, on a hillside sloping to the south, I saw the farmhouse of my
dream. Two tall honey locusts stood like faithful guardians on each
side of the porch. An elm drooped over the farther end of the piazza.
In the dooryard the foliage of two great silver poplar or aspen trees
fluttered perpetually with its light sheen. A maple towered high
behind the house, and a brook that ran not far away was shadowed by a
weeping willow. Other trees were grouped here and there as if Nature
had planted them, and up one a wild grape-vine clambered, its
unobtrusive blossoms filling the air with a fragrance more delicious