“Oh, it is so beautiful!” she cried aloud.  “It is so beautiful!”

In the meantime the young man, still unseen, had been standing in the shadow of the bushes, drinking in the sight.  The landscape and the figure and the song had all faded from his thoughts, or rather blended themselves as a halo about one thing, the face of this girl.  For it was one of those faces that a man may see once in a lifetime and keep as a haunting memory ever afterwards, as a vision of the sweetness and glory of woman; at this moment it was a face transfigured with rapture, and the man who was gazing upon it was trembling, and scarcely aware of where he was.

For fully a minute more the girl stood motionless, gazing about at the forest; then she chanced to look towards the spring, where she saw the flowers upon the seat.

“Why, someone has left a nosegay!” she exclaimed, as she started forward; but that seemed to suggest another thought to her, and she looked around.  As she did so she caught sight of the young man and sprang towards him.  “Why, Arthur!  You here!” she cried.

The other started forward as if he would have clasped her in his arms; but then recollecting himself he came forward very slowly, half lowering his eyes before the girl’s beauty.

“So you recollect me, Helen, do you?” he said, in a low voice.

“Recollect you?” was the answer.  “Why, you dear, foolish boy, of course I recollect you.  But how in the world do you come to be here?”

“I came here to see you, Helen.”

“To see me?” exclaimed she.  “But pray how—­” and then she stopped, and a look of delight swept across her face.  “You mean that you knew I would come here the first thing?”

“I do indeed.”

“Why, that was beautiful!” she exclaimed.  “I am so glad I did come.”

The glance which she gave made his heart leap up; for a moment or two they were silent, looking at each other, and then suddenly another thought struck the girl.  “Arthur,” she cried, “I forgot!  Do you mean to tell me that you have come all the way from Hilltown?”

“Yes, Helen.”

“And just to see me?”

“Yes, Helen.”

“And this morning?”

She received the same answer again.  “It is twelve miles,” she exclaimed; “who ever heard of such a thing?  You must be tired to death.”

She put out her hand, which he took tremblingly.

“Let us go sit down on the bench,” she said, “and then we can talk about things.  I am perfectly delighted that you came,” she added when she had seated herself, with the marigolds and the lily in her lap.  “It will seem just like old times; just think how long ago it was that I saw you last, Arthur,—­three whole years!  And do you know, as I left the town I thought of you, and that I might find you here.”

The young man’s face flushed with pleasure.

“But I’d forgotten you since!” went on the girl, eyeing him mischievously; “for oh, I was so happy, coming down the old, old path, and seeing all the old sights!  Things haven’t changed a bit, Arthur; the woods look exactly the same, and the bridge hasn’t altered a mite since the days we used to sit on the edge and let our feet hang in.  Do you remember that, Arthur?”