“Such rest, Marion,” he said, “will soon restore me to health,” and his looks confirmed the truth of his statement.

“I should think you had found life’s elixir, or the philosopher’s stone, whose fabled virtues were buried with the alchemists of old.  But who is the fairy, Ralph, and when shall we behold her face?”

“Before the sun has set to-day,” he answered, confidently.

Marion smiled, looked slightly incredulous, and sat down to her books and work.

Towards the close of the day, her attention was attracted by a graceful figure approaching the river bank.  Her hat had fallen from her head, displaying its beautiful contour, and in her hair were wild flowers, so charmingly placed, that they seemed as though they had grown there.  She watched her with the deepest interest, and turned to beckon her brother to the window, when lo! he was directly behind her, and had seen the fair maiden all the while.  He had been drawn there by an irresistible power, and in the single glance he felt the assurance that she was the being who was to bless his life.  He would have given much, then, to have seen her face, and having watched her till out of sight, went to his couch for rest.

Marion looked on his placid features, and hope sprung up in her breast.  She felt that her brother was, by some mysterious power, improving, and knew that he would fully recover his health.  The flood-tides of affection flowed to the surface, and she wept tears of joy.

Towards sunset they walked out together.  Even the mental excitement caused by looking upon Goethe’s statue, and the beautiful Ariadne had not exhausted him as formerly, and he was able to go into the evening air for the first time for many months.

They returned to their rooms, and talked of the stranger.

“Is she not lovely?” asked Marion, after long silence.

But in that dreamy silence, Ralph had, in spirit, been absent from his sister and present with her of whom she inquired.  The sound of her voice brought him back; he started and said,—­

“Who?”

“Why the stranger, of whom we were speaking.”

“Lovely?” he replied; “she is more than that, she is holy, heavenly, pure.  But let us talk no more tonight, dear; I am weary.”

The link was broken; her words had called him from the sphere of the beautiful stranger, and he needed rest.

“Just what I feared,” she said to herself, “he is mentally excited, and to-morrow will droop.”

Contrary to her fears, however, he awoke fresh and bright on the morrow, and able to visit with her, many places of interest.  He did not see the stranger that day, nor the one succeeding.

“I fear they have gone,” said his sister, as Ralph walked nervously through the room.  “I saw several go last evening, and she may have been among the number.”

“No, no; she has not gone.  I should feel her absence were she away.  I should have no strength, but lose what I have gained, and droop.  I feel her here under this roof.  I am approaching her, and shall, within a few hours, look on her face, and hear her voice.”