the garden, under the long arbors of grapevines, over the hill, and
through a grove of maples, ending at the river where the boat-house
stood. The brightness of the morning was not lost on me, and before I
reached the maple-grove I was buoyant and happy. At the entrance of the
grove (which was traversed by several paths, the principal coming up
directly from the river) I came suddenly upon the tutor, walking
rapidly, with a pair of oars over his shoulder. He started, and for a
moment we both stood still and did not speak. I could only think with
confusion of my emotion when he sang.
"You are always early," he said, with his slight, very slight, foreign
accent, "earlier than yesterday by half an hour," he added, looking at
his watch. My heart gave a great bound of pleasure. Then he had not
forgotten! How he must have seen all this.
He stood and talked with me for some moments, and then desperately I
made a movement to go on. I do not believe, at least I am not sure, that
at first he had any intention of going with me. But it was not in human
nature to withstand the flattery of such emotion as his presence seemed
always to inspire in me; and then, I have no doubt, he had a certain
pleasure in talking to me outside of that; and then the morning was so
lovely and he had so much of books.
He proposed to show me a walk I had not taken. There was a little
hesitation in his manner, but he was reassured by my look of pleasure,
and throwing down the oars under a tree, he turned and walked beside me.
No doubt he said to himself, "America! This paradise of girlhood;--there
can be no objection." It was heavenly sweet, that walk--the birds, the
sky, the dewiness and freshness of all nature and all life. It seemed
the unstained beginning of all things to me.
The woods were wet; we could not go through them, and so we went a
longer way, along the river and back by the road.
This time he did not do all the talking, but made me talk, and listened
carefully to all I said; and I was so happy, talking was not any effort.
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