So he
talked to her of her daily life, her work, her pleasures, her
friends. As he talked he grew more and more charmed; she had no
great amount of intellect, no wit or keen powers of repartee, but
the girl's love of nature made her a poetess. She seemed to know
all the secrets of the trees and the flowers; no beauty escaped
her; the rustle of green leaves, the sighs of the western wind,
the solemn hush of the deep-green woods, the changing tints of
the summer sky delighted her. Beautiful words, embodying
beautiful thoughts, rippled over the fresh, ripe lips. She knew
nothing else. She had seen no pictures, read no books, knew
nothing of the fine arts, was totally ignorant of all scholarly
lore, but deep in her heart lay a passionate love for the fair
face of nature.
It was new to Ronald. He had heard fashionable ladies speak of
everything they delighted in. He had ever heard of "music in the
fall of rain drops," or character in flowers.
Once Dora forgot her shyness, and when Ronald said something, she
laughed in reply. How sweet and pure that laughter was--like a
soft peal of silver bells! When Ronald Earle went to sleep that
night, the sound haunted his dreams.
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