"
--SHAKESPEARE.
One lovely morning in the ensuing spring, the younger Elsie wandered out
alone into the grounds, and sauntering aimlessly along with a book in her
hand, at length found herself standing on the shore of the lakelet.
It was a lovely spot, for the limpid waters reflected grassy banks
sprinkled here and there with the wild violet, and shaded by beautiful
trees.
A gentle breeze just ruffled the glassy surface of the pond, and rustic
seats invited to rest. It seemed just the place and time for a reverie,
and Elsie, with scarce a glance about her, sat down to that enjoyment. It
was only of late that she had formed the habit, but it was growing upon
her.
She sat for some time buried in thought, her cheek upon her hand, her eyes
upon the ground, and smiles and blushes chasing each other over the fair
sweet face.
The dip of an oar, followed instantly by a discordant laugh and a shrill
voice asking, "What are you sittin' there for so still and quiet? Wouldn't
you like to get in here with me!" caused her to start and spring to her
feet with a cry of dismay.
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