Thus, we would fain believe that no man loses what once made him happy--that for every one a tender figure rises up at times from that horizon, lit with blue and gold, called youth: some loving figure, with soft, tender smiles, and starlike eyes, and arms which beckon slowly to the weary traveller.

The memory of the old youthful scenes and figures may be deadened by the inexorable world, but still the germ remains; and this old lost tradition of pure love, and joy, and youth, comes back again to bless us.
The young girls and their companions passed the hours very merrily upon the summit of the tall hill, from which the old border town was visible far below, its chimneys sending upward slender lines of smoke, which rose like blue and golden staves of olden banners, then were flattened, and so melted into air.
Winchester itself had slowly sunk into gloom, for the evening was coming on, and a storm also.

The red light streamed from a mass of clouds in the west, which resembled some old feudal castle in flames; and the fiery furzes of the sunset only made the blackness of the mass more palpable.
Then this light gradually disappeared: a murky gloom settled down upon the conflagration, as of dying fires at midnight, and a cool wind from the mountains rose and died away, and rose again, and swept along in gusts, and shook the trees, making them grate and moan.
Verty rose to his feet.
"In five minutes we shall have a storm," he said.

"Come, Redbud--and Miss Fanny." Even as he spoke, the far distance pushed a blinding mass toward them, and a dozen heavy drops began to fall.
"We cannot get back!" cried Ralph.
"But we can reach the house at the foot of the hill!" said Fanny.
"No time to lose!" And so saying, Verty took Redbud's hand, and leaving Fanny to Ralph, hastened down the hill.
Before they had gone twenty steps, the thunder gust burst on them furiously.
The rain was blinding--terrible.

It scudded along the hill-side, driven by the wind, with a fury which broke the boughs, snapped the strong rushes, and flooded everything.
Redbud, who was as brave a girl as ever lived, drew her chip hat closer on her brow, and laughed.