“Just ten years old,” finished Paula, seeing him cast her an inquiring glance.
“Very young for such a thoughtful little miss,” he exclaimed. “And have those childish enthusiasms quite departed?” he continued, smiling upon her with gentle encouragement. “Do you no longer find a fairyland in the view up the river?”
She flushed, casting a timid glance at her aunt, but meeting his eyes again seemed to forget everything and everybody in the inspiration which his presence afforded.
“I fear I must acknowledge that it is more a fairyland to me than ever,” she softly replied. “Knowledge does not always bring disillusion, and though I have learned one by one the names of the towns scattered along those misty banks, and though I know they are no less prosaic in their character than our own humdrum village, yet I cannot rid myself of the notion that those verdant slopes with their archway of clouds, hide the portals of Paradise, and that I have only to follow the