University of Virginia Library

18. XVIII.

They came at length to the charmed streamlet,
the Branch of the Sweet Water, to this day known
for its fascinations. The moon rose sweetly above
it, the trees coming out in her soft light, and the
scatterings of her thousand beams glancing from
the green polish of their crowding leaves. The
breeze that rose along with her was soft and wooing
as herself; while the besprinkling fleece of the
small white clouds, clustering along the sky, and
flying from her splendors, made the scene, if possible,
far more fairy-like and imposing. It was a
scene for love, and the heart of Ned Johnson

grew more softened than ever. His desire for
adventure grew modified; and when Mary bent
to the brooklet, and scooped up the water for him
to drink, with the water-gourd that hung from the
bough, wantoning in the breeze that loved to play
over the pleasant stream, Ned could not help thinking
she never looked more beautiful. The water
trickled from the gourd as she handed it to him,
falling like droppings of the moonshine again into
its parent stream. You should have seen her eye
— so full of hope — so full of doubt — so beautiful
— so earnest, — as he took the vessel from her
hands. For a moment he hesitated, and then how
her heart beat and her limbs trembled. But he
drank off the contents at a draught, and gave no
sign of emotion. Yet his emotions were strange
and novel. It seemed as if so much ice had gone
through his veins in that moment. He said nothing,
however, and dipping up a gourd full for
Mary, he hung the vessel again upon the pendant
bough, and the two moved away from the water
— not, however, before the maiden caught a
glimpse, through the intervening foliage, of those
two queer, bright, little eyes of Logoochie, with
a more delightful activity than ever, dancing gayly
into one.