"Come here, Mr. Lawson," cried Jennie Montgomery, in breathless suspense. "Is not that grand? This is a sight I have been wishing for. Just look."
Mr. Lawson was truly a lover of nature, and his profound admiration excited her.
"I never stand here without thinking of Marguerite," exclaimed the girl, vehemently; "she would sit upon that bowlder and gaze around until I would think that she had lost her senses. I believe if any being has a soul for the beautiful it is cousin Marguerite."
The young man looked down from his proud eminence and encountered the fixed gaze of his companion. That look gave anxiety. A painful silence was the only reply, and both gazed upon the panorama before them for fully five minutes before the girl spoke.
"I can never forgive my cousin Evelyn for forcing Madge away. We all knew it was against her wishes that she went."
How comforting those words to Phillip Lawson's ear.
"Mr. Lawson," said Jennie, coming close to his side, "I am not going to hide my feelings any longer. You are a very dear friend and must have my confidence."
The young man's looks were proof of the girl's words. His face reflected thought sublime as Aeschylus, beautiful as Sophocles, and pathetic as Euripides!
"Thank you, Jennie," was the reply, and the eyes had a far-off look that went to the girl's heart.
"You are going to-morrow, Mr. Lawson, and I may not have another such opportunity."