Nature, green and pale, seemed to be cast in
an enchanted sleep, and even to suspend her breathing. From the point
Richard had reached he could see the road stretching for a full mile,
like a white ribbon, save in the middle, where it dipped between high
banks. It led to Turlock only, but at this place a foot-path struck
across the fields to the Fairies' Bower. To his astonishment, though
indeed he had scarcely capacity enough for further wonder, Harry took
this path; he saw her climb the stile, and then for the first time look
round; he sank under the hedge, to hide himself; and when he cautiously
looked forth again the girl had vanished. But he knew whither she was
going now. He had assisted her across that very stile but a few days
ago; he had walked with her through the hazel copse, and skirted the
clear trout-stream by her side; and he could follow her now at utmost
speed, and with less caution, for the path was green and noiseless. He
could hear his heart beat--not from want of breath--as though in accord
with the silver treble of the stream, as he sped along. Through the
scanty foliage of the dell he saw her light dress gleam across the
wooden bridge, but he himself stopped beside it, peering through the
lattice of the branches upon her as she stood on the green bank of the
Wishing-Well.
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