`` Well , at any rate , '' said Primrose , `` your story seems to have driven away the mist . '' And , indeed , while the tale was going forward , the vapors had been quite exhaled from the landscape . A scene was now disclosed which the spectators might almost fancy as having been created since they had last looked in the direction where it lay . About half a mile distant , in the lap of the valley , now appeared a beautiful lake , which reflected a perfect image of its own wooded banks , and of the summits of the more distant hills . It gleamed in glassy tranquillity , without the trace of a winged breeze on any part of its bosom . Beyond its farther shore was Monument Mountain , in a recumbent position , stretching almost across the valley . Eustace Bright compared it to a huge , headless sphinx , wrapped in a Persian shawl ; and , indeed , so rich and diversified was the autumnal foliage of its woods , that the simile of the shawl was by no means too high-colored for the reality . In the lower ground , between Tanglewood and the lake , the clumps of trees and borders of woodland were chiefly golden-leaved or dusky brown , as having suffered more from frost than the foliage on the hillsides . Over all this scene there was a genial sunshine , intermingled with a slight haze , which made it unspeakably soft and tender . O , what a day of Indian summer was it going to be ! The children snatched their baskets , and set forth , with hop , skip , and jump , and all sorts of frisks and gambols ; while Cousin Eustace proved his fitness to preside over the party , by outdoing all their antics , and performing several new capers , which none of them could ever hope to imitate . Behind went a good old dog , whose name was Ben . Two lovers , once upon a time , had planned a little summer-house , in the form of an antique temple , which it was their purpose to consecrate to all manner of refined and innocent enjoyments . There they would hold pleasant intercourse with one another , and the circle of their familiar friends ; there they would give festivals of delicious fruit ; there they would hear lightsome music , intermingled with the strains of pathos which make joy more sweet ; there they would read poetry and fiction , and permit their own minds to flit away in daydreams and romance ; there , in short , -- for why should we shape out the vague sunshine of their hopes ? -- there all pure delights were to cluster like roses among the pillars of the edifice , and blossom ever new and spontaneously . So , one breezy and cloudless afternoon , Adam Forrester and Lilias Fay set out upon a ramble over the wide estate which they were to possess together , seeking a proper site for their Temple of Happiness . They were themselves a fair and happy spectacle , fit priest and priestess for such a shrine ; although , making poetry of the pretty name of Lilias , Adam Forrester was wont to call her LILY , because her form was as fragile , and her cheek almost as pale . As they passed , hand in hand , down the avenue of drooping elms , that led from the portal of Lilies Fay 's paternal mansion , they seemed to glance like winged creatures through the strips of sunshine , and to scatter brightness where the deep shadows fell . But , setting forth at the same time with this youthful pair , there was a dismal figure , wrapped in a black velvet cloak that might have been made of a coffin pall , and with a sombre hat , such as mourners wear , drooping its broad brim over his heavy brows . Glancing behind them , the lovers well knew who it was that followed , but wished from their hearts that he had been elsewhere , as being a companion so strangely unsuited to their joyous errand .
It was a near relative of Lilies XXXXX , an old man by the name of Walter Gascoigne , who had long labored under the burden of a melancholy spirit , which was sometimes maddened into absolute insanity , and always had a tinge of it .
Bright Eustace Fay Lilias Tanglewood afternoon enjoyments frisks gambols priestess