"Remain in the arbor, whispered the sculptor to the figure that
leaned upon his arm, "you will know whether, and when, to make your
appearance."
"God will teach me," was the reply. "May he support me too!"
Roderick was reclining on the margin of a fountain, which gushed
into the fleckered sunshine with the same clear sparkle, and the
same voice of airy quietude, as when trees of primeval growth flung
their shadows across its bosom. How strange is the life of a fountain,
born at every moment, yet of an age coeval with the rocks, and far
surpassing the venerable antiquity of a forest!
"You are come! I have expected you," said Elliston, when he
became aware of the sculptor's presence.
His manner was very different from that of the preceding day-
quiet, courteous, and, as Herkimer thought, watchful both over his
guest and himself. This unnatural restraint was almost the only
trait that betokened anything amiss. He had just thrown a book upon
the grass, where it lay half opened, thus disclosing itself to be a
natural history of the serpent-tribe, illustrated by life-like plates.
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