These few happy hours, soon to be dimly overclouded, were so bright and sweet, that even in the midst of after trouble, their memory would come up like fragments of exquisite melody, haunting those two people.
Whatever the secret was which oppressed Elizabeth, its recollection was put aside for the time, and Mellen gave himself up to the pleasure of the hour with all the intensity of a nature which enjoys and suffers so sharply, that even trifles can make for it a keener excitement than great happiness or acute suffering bring to more placid characters.
"You are not tired, Bessie?"
"Tired, no! I could ride on forever!"
"See how the waters shine in the sun; they seem so full of joyous, buoyant life, that it gives one strength to watch them."
Elizabeth could fully share in his enthusiasm, and she allowed her poetical fancy full play, indulging in beautiful comparisons and earnest talk, which unveiled a phase of her nature seldom revealed except to those who knew her well.
"I never heard a woman talk as you can," said Mellen, admiringly; "we shall have you writing books, or coming out as a genius yet."
Elizabeth laughed gaily.
"You need not be afraid; I know you would not like it."
"Indeed I should not; it springs from my selfishness I know, but I like to keep your real self entirely for my own life."