He was quite alone with the stately figure that shone white against the purple draperies and seemed to offer him a voiceless welcome from its marble lips . He gave it one loving look , and then forgot it , for at the feet of his Adam lay a handful of wild violets , with the dew still on them . A sudden smile broke over his face as he took them up , with the thought , `` She has been here and found my work good . '' For several moments he stood thoughtfully turning the flowers to and fro in his hands ; then , as if deciding some question within himself , he said , still smiling , -- `` It is just a year since she went home ; she must have accomplished something in that time ; I 'll take the violets as a sign that I may go and ask her what . '' He knew she lived just out of the city , between the river and the mills , and as he left the streets behind him , he found more violets blooming all along the way like flowery guides to lead him right . Greener grew the road , balmier blew the wind , and blither sang the birds , as he went on , enjoying his holiday with the zest of a boy , until he reached a most attractive little path winding away across the fields . The gate swung invitingly open , and all the ground before it was blue with violets . Still following their guidance he took the narrow path , till , coming to a mossy stone beside a brook , he sat down to listen to the blackbirds singing deliciously in the willows over head . Close by the stone , half hidden in the grass lay a little book , and , taking it up he found it was a pocket-diary . No name appeared on the fly-leaf , and , turning the pages to find some clue to its owner , he read here and there enough to give him glimpses into an innocent and earnest heart which seemed to be learning some hard lesson patiently . Only near the end did he find the clue in words of his own , spoken long ago , and a name . Then , though longing intensely to know more , he shut the little book and went on , showing by his altered face that the simple record of a girl 's life had touched him deeply . Soon an old house appeared nestling to the hillside with the river shining in the low green meadows just before it . `` She lives there , '' he said , with as much certainty as if the pansies by the door-stone spelt her name , and , knocking , he asked for Psyche . `` She 's gone to town , but I expect her home every minute . Ask the gentleman to walk in and wait , Katy , '' cried a voice from above , where the whisk of skirts was followed by the appearance of an inquiring eye over the banisters . The gentleman did walk in , and while he waited looked about him . The room , though very simply furnished , had a good deal of beauty in it , for the pictures were few and well chosen , the books such as never grow old , the music lying on the well-worn piano of the sort which is never out of fashion , and standing somewhat apart was one small statue in a recess full of flowers . Lovely in its simple grace and truth was the figure of a child looking upward as if watching the airy flight of some butterfly which had evidently escaped from the chrysalis still lying in the little hand . Paul was looking at it with approving eyes when Mrs. Dean appeared with his card in her hand , three shawls on her shoulders , and in her face a somewhat startled expression , as if she expected some novel demonstration from the man whose genius her daughter so much admired .
`` I hope Miss Psyche is well , '' began XXXXX , with great discrimination if not originality .
Adam Dean Paul blither chrysalis door-stone fly-leaf fro left year