Zelie St.
Pierre was at Paris, with her relatives; the other teachers were at their homes.

There was Ginevra Fanshawe, whom certain of her connections had carried on a pleasant tour southward.

Ginevra seemed to me the happiest.

She was on the route of beautiful scenery; these September suns shone for her on fertile plains, where harvest and vintage matured under their mellow beam.

These gold and crystal moons rose on her vision over blue horizons waved in mounted lines.
But all this was nothing; I too felt those autumn suns and saw those harvest moons, and I almost wished to be covered in with earth and turf, deep out of their influence; for I could not live in their light, nor make them comrades, nor yield them affection.