The carriage could not have gone above a mile or twowhen a pretty young girl came along with a tripping pacewhich showed precisely how her little heart was dancingin her bosom. Perhaps it was this merry kind of motionthat caused—is there any harm in saying it？ —her garterto slip its knot. Conscious that the silken girth—if silkit were—was relaxing its hold， she turned aside into theshelter of the maple trees， and there found a young manasleep by the spring. Blushing as red as any rose that sheshould have intruded into a gentleman’s bedchamber，and for such a purpose too， she was about to make herescape on tiptoe. But there was peril near the sleeper. Amonster of a bee had been wandering overhead—buzz，buzz， buzz—now among the leaves， now flashing throughthe strips of sunshine， and now lost in the dark shade， tillfinally he appeared to be settling on the eyelid of DavidSwan. The sting of a bee is sometimes deadly. As freeheartedas she was innocent， the girl attacked the intruderwith her handkerchief， brushed him soundly and drovehim from beneath the maple shade. How sweet a picture！
This good deed accomplished， with quickened breath anda deeper blush she stole a glance at the youthful strangerfor whom she had been battling with a dragon in the air.
“He is handsome！” thought she， and blushed redder yet.
How could it be that no dream of bliss grew so strongwithin him that， shattered by its very strength， it shouldpart asunder and allow him to perceive the girl among itsphantoms？ Why， at least， did no smile of welcome brightenupon his face？ She was come， the maid whose soul，according to the old and beautiful idea， had been severedfrom his own， and whom in all his vague but passionatedesires he yearned to meet. Her only could he love with aperfect love， him only could she receive into the depths ofher heart， and now her image was faintly blushing in thefountain by his side； should it pass away， its happy lustrewould never gleam upon his life again.
“How sound he sleeps！” murmured the girl. She departed，but did not trip along the road so lightly as when she came.
Now， this girl’s father was a thriving country merchantin the neighborhood， and happened at that identical timeto be looking out for just such a young man as DavidSwan. Had David formed a wayside acquaintance withthe daughter， he would have become the father’s clerk，and all else in natural succession. So here， again， had goodfortune—the best of fortunes—stolen so near that hergarments brushed against him， and he knew nothing ofthe matter.
The girl was hardly out of sight when two men turnedaside beneath the maple shade. Both had dark faces setoff by cloth caps， which were drawn down aslant overtheir brows. Their dresses were shabby， yet had a certainsmartness. These were a couple of rascals who got their livingby whatever the devil sent them， and now， in the interim ofother business， had staked the joint profits of their nextpiece of villainy on a game of cards which was to have beendecided here under the trees. But， finding David asleep bythe spring， one of the rogues whispered to his fellow：
“Hist！ Do you see that bundle under his head？”
The other villain nodded， winked and leered.
