Love isa time of enchantment:in it all days are fair and all fields green. Youth is blest by it,old age made benign:the eyes of love seeroses blooming in December,and sunshine through rain. Verilyis the time of true-lovea time of enchantment
and Oh! how eager is womanto be bewitched!
OBERTA had thought it a pity when she had to leave thecar in Oamaru for repairs, but now she was glad to beapproaching the ancestral home on foot. If she had driven, shemight have missed the full beauty of the lane.It was tree-lined, and dappled with shadow, sweet with birdsong, and the haunt of bees. The scent of wild violets rosefrom under the silver birches, and at the end of the lane a ribbonof daffodils ran by the side of the path and disappeared under