“Wear something which you do not fear to soil, Miss Wyman; and have you a broad-brimmed hat to protect you from the sun?”
“I have. It is one of the staple articles of my wardrobe. I never go from home without it.”
They were soon ready, and found Basil at the gate at the appointed hour. The lake lay calm and clear in its woodland setting. They glided for miles over its smooth surface, and each felt the other's need of silence. A gentle breeze just stirred the waters into ripples, breaking the stillness of the hour.
“The correspondence of speech,” said Basil, giving the boat a sudden turn, and displaying some drooping willows on the shore which were duplicating their graceful branches in the clear waters.
“When we are passive, do not they of the upper world thus throw their image upon our minds?” he said, looking earnestly on the reflection of the branches.
Dawn thrilled at the beautiful analogy, and thought of one unseen who might be, perhaps, at that time, enjoying the outer world through her tranquil state, if not through her senses.
“I sailed once on this lake with Ralph. It was such a day as this,” said Basil. “O, how he enjoyed it. He loved the water, everything from brook to ocean.”
“I wonder if he is near us to day?” said Miss Bernard.
Dawn wept. Her spirit was full of love and harmony, and the tears gushed forth like waters leaping from joyous cascades. They were not tears of sorrow or of loneliness, but crystal drops of emotion.
“There are harmonists whose fingers,
From the pulses of the air,
Call out melody that lingers
All along the golden stair
Of the spiral that ascendeth
To the paradise on high,
And arising there emblendeth
With the music of the sky.”