The Lily's Quest

From "Twice Told Tales"

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 Fay, 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. What a contrast between the
young pilgrims of bliss and their unbidden associate! They looked as
if moulded of Heaven's sunshine, and he of earth's gloomiest shade;
they flitted along like Hope and Joy, roaming hand in hand through
life; while his darksome figure stalked behind, a type of all the
woful influences which life could fling upon them. But the three had
not gone far, when they reached a spot that pleased the gentle Lily,
and she paused.

"What sweeter place shall we find than this?" said she. "Why should
we seek farther