We will build our Temple here . '' But their sad old companion , who had taken his stand on the very site which they proposed to cover with a marble floor , shook his head and frowned ; and the young man and the Lily deemed it almost enough to blight the spot , and desecrate it for their airy Temple , that his dismal figure had thrown its shadow there . He pointed to some scattered stones , the remnants of a former structure , and to flowers such as young girls delight to nurse in their gardens , but which had now relapsed into the wild simplicity of nature . `` Not here ! '' cried old Walter Gascoigne . `` Here , long ago , other mortals built their Temple of Happiness . Seek another site for yours ! '' `` What ! '' exclaimed Lilias Fay . `` Have any ever planned such a Temple , save ourselves ? '' `` Poor child ! '' said her gloomy kinsman . `` In one shape or other , every mortal has dreamed your dream . '' Then he told the lovers , how -- not , indeed , an antique Temple -- but a dwelling had once stood there , and that a dark-clad guest had dwelt among its inmates , sitting forever at the fireside , and poisoning all their household mirth . Under this type , Adam Forrester and Lilias saw that the old man spake of Sorrow . He told of nothing that might not be recorded in the history of almost every household ; and yet his hearers felt as if no sunshine ought to fall upon a spot where human grief had left so deep a stain ; or , at least , that no joyous Temple should be built there . `` This is very sad , '' said the Lily ; sighing . `` Well , there are lovelier spots than this , '' said Adam Forrester , soothingly , -- `` spots which sorrow has not blighted . '' So they hastened away , and the melancholy Gascoigne followed them , looking as if he had gathered up all the gloom of the deserted spot , and was hearing it as a burden of inestimable treasure . But still they rambled on , and soon found themselves in a rocky dell , through the midst of which ran a streamlet , with ripple , and foam , and a continual voice of inarticulate joy .
It was a wild retreat , walled on either side with gray precipices , which would have frowned somewhat too sternly , had not a profusion XXXXX green shrubbery rooted itself into their crevices , and wreathed gladsome foliage around their solemn brows .
In So Under among as of on through to with