"I wish you didn't understand it, either, Fleda."
"But you shouldn't say that. I am happier than they are, now, Hugh now that you are better with all their means of happiness. They know nothing of our quiet enjoyments; they must live in a whirl, or they would think they are not living at all; and I do not believe that all New York can give them the real pleasure that I have in such a day as this. They would see almost nothing in all this beauty that my eyes 'drink in,' as Cowper says; and they would be certain to quarrel with the wind, that to me is like the shake of an old friend's hand. Delicious!" said Fleda, as the wind rewarded this eulogium with a very hearty shake indeed.
"I believe you would make friends with everything, Fleda, said
Hugh, laughing.
"The wind is always that to me," said Fleda; "not always in such a cheerful mood as to-day, though. It talks to me often of a thousand old-time things, and sighs over them with me, a most sympathizing friend! but to-day he invites me to a waltz Come!"
And pulling Hugh after her, away she went down the rocky path, with a step too light to care for the stones; the little feet capering down the mountain with a disdain of the ground that made Hugh smile to see her; and eyes dancing for company, till they reached the lower woodland.
"A most spirited waltz!" said Hugh.
"And a most slack partner. Why didn't you keep me company?"
"I never was made for waltzing," said Hugh, shaking his head.
"Not to the tune of the north wind? That has done me good,
Hugh."
"So I should judge, by your cheeks."