As her friend looked puzzled, the girl went on with her merriest laugh, “I must tell you all about it, and we shall be happy once more; for you turn down this path towards the woods, and then you must go very quietly and hold your breath, and prepare yourself just as if you were going into a great cathedral; for you want all your heart to be full of expectation and joy!  It is for only about one week in the year that you may see this great sight, and the excitement of the first rapture is best of all.  It would be so dreadful if you were not reverent; you must fancy that you are coming to hear a wonderful musician, and you know that he’ll play for you, but you don’t know just when.  That’s what I used to pretend, and I used to come every day for a week or two, and very early in the morning, when the dew was still everywhere and the winds were still gay.  Several times you go back home disappointed, but that only makes you more eager for the next time; and when you do find them it is wonderful—­oh, most wonderful!  For there is a whole hedge of them along the edge of the wood; and you may be just as madly happy as you choose and never be half happy enough, because they are so beautiful!”

“These are wild roses?” asked the other, smiling.

“Yes,” said Helen, “and oh, think how many days I have forgotten them, and they may have bloomed!  And for three years I have not been here, and I was thinking about it all the way over on the steamer.”  They had come to the path that turned off to the woods, and Helen led her companion down it, still prattling away in the meantime; when they came to the edge of the woods she began walking upon tip toe, and put her fingers upon her lips in fun.  Then suddenly she gave a cry of delight, for there were the roses for a fact, a whole hedge of them as she had said, glowing in the bright sun and making a wonderful vision.

The two stopped and stood gazing at them, the girl’s whole soul dancing within her.  “Oh do you know,” she cried suddenly, “I think that I could get drunk with just looking at roses!  There is a strange kind of excitement that comes over one, from drinking in the sight of their rich red, and their gracefulness and perfume; it makes all my blood begin to flow faster, and I quite forget everything else.”  Helen stood for a few moments longer with her countenance of joy; afterwards she went towards the flowers and knelt down in front of them, choosing a bud that was very perfect.  “I always allow myself just one,” she said, “just one for love,” and then she bent over it, whispering softly: 

  “Hush,’tis the lullaby time is singing,
  Hush and heed not, for all things pass.”

She plucked it and held it up before her, while the wind came up behind her and tossed it about, and tossed her skirts; Helen, radiant with laughter, glanced at her companion, saying gaily, “You must hold it very lightly, just like this, you know, with one finger and a thumb; and then you may toss it before you and lose yourself in its perfectness, until it makes all your soul feel gracious.  Do you know, Mr. Howard, I think one could not live with the roses very long without becoming beautiful?”