And now,
dear Edward," she added, "never again, in any extremity, think for a
moment of meeting trials or enduring privations alone. Having taken
a wife, you cannot move safely on your journey unless she moves by
your side."
"Angel! Yes, you are my good angel," repeated Edward.
"Call me what you will," said Agnes, with a sweet smile, as she
brushed, with her delicate hand, the hair from his temples; "but let
me be your wife. I ask no better name, no higher station."
NOT GREAT, BUT HAPPY.
How pure and sweet is the love of young hearts! How little does it
contain of earth--how much of heaven! No selfish passions mar its
beauty. Its tenderness, its pathos, its devotion, who does not
remember, even when the sere leaves of autumn are rustling beneath
his feet? How little does it regard the cold and calculating
objections of worldly-mindedness. They are heard but as a passing
murmur. The deep, unswerving confidence of young love, what a
blessed thing it is! Heart answers to heart without an unequal
throb. The world around is bright and beautiful: the atmosphere is
filled with spring's most delicious perfumes.
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