Year: 1860

Tor the coming of that milk-white steed


She had grown to know his gsllop across


the bridge as well as she knew the voice o.


his master. Fanny's lover lived in the city


i've miles away-and in all seasons and all


weathers came to visit bis liege lady on
this favorite horse, beautiful and power.
fol animal. But this was the last time that
Fanny would watch with loving anxious
nesS at that eastern window for the bold,
impetnous rider-for tomorrow they were
to be married.


A sweet ideal of early womanhood was
Funny at that moment, with her love ra-
dating face bent over the book, of whose
contents she saw not word-with for
ward fall of her light wavy hair, balf sbad-
ing shy, tender, soft blue Ieyes-with the
tremendous play Of her parted lips and the
vivid hushingS of her fair rounded cheek.
She was dressed with chld.liko simplicity /;
in lawn of that most delicate blue we see
in the fair sky-with flowing sleeves, half
revealing arms Of faultless symetry Her
white neck was uncovered, and in place of
u. brooch, ,gshe wore at her bosom a bunch
of pale blush roses. How her high.beat-
ing heart rocked them, and shook out their
perfumes how eloquently, how fitly, her
love spoke in the rise and fall of those rose
buds, and breathed in the fragrance they
exhaled


There is quick light step in the hall
without-the door is flung open Let US
look up with Fanny, at him who stands on
the threshold.


A figure Of medium height manly, yet
more delicate than robust-a face intellect
ually handsome though exceedingly fresh
and youthful-the full red lips all smiles,
the large brown eyes all tcnderness-a deep
flush on the slightly bronzed cheek--the
dark curly hair somewhat disordered and
blown about the broad brow by the fresh
night wind so stood Henry Lester-but
only for an instant stood, little blinded
by the light-tben stepped joyfully forward.
Fanny rose, half fond, half fearful, the
passion Of the woman at strife with the
shyness of tie child, to meet his glad en-
brace. Ir


You are late tonight, dearest, she said,
in an inquiring tone.


Yes my groomsman, Charles Mason,
came tonight. had not seen him for
nearly year, and so we had many things
to talk about | never liked the fellow so
well. Indeed / believe love all my friends
the better for loving you so truly, Fanny.
Like Juliet, the more give, the more |
have to give'


Such, dear Henry, is the infinite, divine
nature of love. Did you find the evening
pleasant 2


Glorious The air is both soft and in.
vigorating, the starlight is very pure, and
there is trihe of moon, you know, just
enough to swear by Oh. Fanny, never
was so happy as tonight My heart was
as the heart of child, brimmng and bub-
bling over with happiness l sung in rid
ing through the dark pine woods some
wild tune, and know not what words
little beside your name, / believe-I took
off my cap, and let the winds frolic as they
would with my hair now, Fanny, see how
damp it is with dew


Fanny laid her hand caressngly among
the shining curls, then drew it away with
blush, while her lover continued


i remained so unspeakably happy
sometimes urging on Selm at furious
rate, the sooner to quench the hot thirst of
my heart in your presence--Sometimes
checking him up, sitting quite still, to let
the great waves Of JOY dash over me-tiIl
l came to the battle-ground on the hill be-
yond the ravine. l had passed this hun
dred times with only momentary shadow
ing Of my heart, as a swift stream is shad-
owed by flowing under willow but to-
night, at the first sight of the cleaning
ghastly tombStones, l reeled in my saddle
and groaned aloud ?


why so, dear HenryP


Because, love, l remembered that you
were mortal, and not one of Gods own i'm
perishable angels, as had dreamed YOU
that you might leave my bosom, for one of
those low, cold lonely beds of sleep and
dark forgetfulness Oh, great Heaven,
the agony of the thought = he cried, hid
ing his face against Fanny's breast, while
tears, that were no reproach to his man
hood, dropped fast upon those pale blush
roses. ..r.--


Il am persuaded that neither death, nor
life, nor angels, nor prinCipalties, nor pow.
ers, nor things present, nor things to come,
can divide US now, or destroy our love,
which is of God. Though perish to ali
the universe beside, can never die to Won.


But ah, Fanny he replied, with some
thing of the fond waywardness of loving
ing child, if should go first, would YOU
grieve for me? Would you ever come to
my grave to weep, and remember how dear
ly loved you 7


For little while,' she added; not long,
think


Henry looked up bewildered and she
continued, with quiyering lip because
dearest, l should soon be lying by your
side. And now she added, smilingly, let
us talk of brighter things-I never saw
You so melancholy and foreboding. Clouds
of oil kinds are SO foreign to your sHnshiny
nature. l rode over to our house with ma
ma, to-day. Everything is in perfect or
der there, now. The last thing / did was
to arrange your books in the little library.
Your dear mother says that she will have
the parlors lit up and tea already for us,
the evening we get back from the Falls


Say the evening We reach home, Fanny
l want to hear you speak that word, SO |
may be sure / am not dreaming of a plea.
SAINT, quiet home, and blessed little wife
Of my own r.,l


We'll, then, home your bome--our home
Ito be presided over by au ignorant little


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