Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and the herdsman

Sat, conversing together of past and present and

future;

While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for

within her

Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of

the music

Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepress

ible sadness

Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the garden.

Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall

of the forest,

Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon.

On the river

Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight,

Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened

and devious spirit.

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden

Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and confessions

Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian

Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and night-dews,

Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moonlight

Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable long

ings,

As, through the garden gate, beneath the brown shade of the oak-trees,

Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie.

Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and

fire-flies

Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers.

Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in

the heavens,

Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and worship,

Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple,

As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, "Upharsin."

And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire-flies,

Wandered alone, and she cried, "O Gabriel!

O my beloved!

Art thou so near unto me,

behold thee?

and yet I cannot

Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me ?

Ah! how often thy feet have trod this path to

the prairie !

Ah! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands around me !

Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from

labor,

Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in thy slumbers.

When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee?"

Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill sounded

Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the

neighbouring thickets,

Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence.

"Patience!" whispered the oaks from orac

ular caverns of darkness;

And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, "To-morrow! "

Bright rose the sun next day; and all the

flowers of the garden

Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and

anointed his tresses

With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal.

"Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold;

"See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and famine,

And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom was coming."

"Farewell!" answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil descended

Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were waiting.

Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine, and gladness,

Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before them,

Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert.