Shall I ever weep, as the song says?
I have never wept yet." This morning the golden-haired sister left the cliff first, and Beatrice sat reading until the noonday sun shone upon the sea.

Her book charmed her; it was a story telling of the life she loved and longed for--of the gay, glad world.

Unfortunately all the people in the book were noble, heroic, and ideal.

The young girl, in her simplicity, believed that they who lived in the world she longed for were all like the people in her book.
When she left the path that led to the meadows, she saw by her side the stranger who had met her the day before.

Again he bowed profoundly, and, with many well-expressed apologies, asked some trifling question about the road.
Beatrice replied briefly, but she could not help seeing the wonder of admiration in his face.