of sunlit wonderland. He preached his sermon in the morning, and took
his appointed part in the other services of afternoon and evening,
apparently to everybody's satisfaction: to him it was all a vision.

When the beautiful full moon rose, this Sunday evening, and glorified
the clearing and the forest with its mellow harvest radiance, he could
have groaned with the burden of his joy. He went out alone into the
light, and bared his head to it, and stood motionless for a long time.
In all his life, he had never been impelled as powerfully toward earnest
and soulful thanksgiving. The impulse to kneel, there in the pure,
tender moonlight, and lift up offerings of praise to God, kept uppermost
in his mind. Some formless resignation restrained him from the act
itself, but the spirit of it hallowed his mood. He gazed up at the broad
luminous face of the satellite. "You are our God," he murmured. "Hers
and mine! You are the most beautiful of heavenly creatures, as she is of
the angels on earth. I am speechless with reverence for you both."

It was not until the camp-meeting broke up, four days later, and Theron
with the rest returned to town, that the material aspects of what had
happened, and might be expected to happen, forced themselves upon his
mind. The kiss was a child of the forest. So long as Theron remained in
the camp, the image of the kiss, which was enshrined in his heart and
ministered to by all his thoughts, continued enveloped in a haze of
sylvan mystery, like a dryad. Suggestions of its beauty and holiness
came to him in the odors of the woodland, at the sight of wild flowers
and water-lilies. When he walked alone in unfamiliar parts of the
forest, he carried about with him the half-conscious idea of somewhere
coming upon a strange, hidden pool which mortal eye had not seen
before--a deep, sequestered mere of spring-fed waters, walled in by
rich, tangled growths of verdure, and bearing upon its virgin bosom only