She seated herself upon the rustic bench, and I went into a full history of
the footstep, with all the associations of idea that had been conjured up
by my imagination.

Sophy was enchanted; it was like a fairy tale; she had read of such
mysterious visitations in books, and the loves thus conceived were always
for beings of superior order, and were always happy. She caught the
illusion in all its force; her cheek glowed; her eye brightened.

"I daresay she's pretty," said Sophy.

"Pretty!" echoed I, "she is beautiful." I went through all the reasoning by
which I had logically proved the fact to my own satisfaction. I dwelt upon
the evidences of her taste, her sensibility to the beauties of nature; her
soft meditative habit that delighted in solitude. "Oh," said I, clasping my
hands, "to have such a companion to wander through these scenes; to sit
with her by this murmuring stream; to wreathe garlands round her brows; to
hear the music of her voice mingling with the whisperings of these groves;
to--"

"Delightful! delightful!" cried Sophy; "what a sweet creature she must be!
She is just the friend I want. How I shall dote upon her! Oh, my dear
brother! you must not keep her all to yourself. You must let _me_ have
some share of her!"

I caught her to my bosom: "You shall--you shall!" cried I, "my dear Sophy;
we will all live for each other!"

* * * * *