It was a moment of silent happiness.
The light wind stirred the lily-buds on the bosom of the lake that held those two fair faces mirrored in its breast; the nightingale's song pierced their hearts with exquisite pleasure that bordered on pain.
Leonora, wandering for one moment in the Land of Enchantment, was recalled to the present and to the actual by the man's folly.
He should have stolen away as he had come, in silence, leaving her alone with her beautiful, strange illusion, to bear its fruit in due season; but—
"Men's hearts crave tangible, close tenderness,
Love's presence, warm and near."
He yielded to a tender impulse without trying to resist it. He was close beside her; his cheek was near her own; his eyes looked into her eyes as they gazed up from the water, and those soft orbs had a look in them that made him dizzy with delight. He slid his arms around the graceful bending form and whispered in her ear:
"Leonora, is it fate?"
Alas!
"A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt!"