“‘God bless thee, dearest, for thy love, Whose pure and holy light, Upon my pathway here below Hath shed its radiance bright. God bless thee for the tenderness Thy spirit aye hath shown Midst all the darkness, doubt, and gloom Thy fond, true heart hath known. My dearest, I think but of thee In evening’s silent hour. And when fond mem’ry bears me back I gladly own thy power. Where’er I go, whate’er betide, One only love is mine. Thro’ sunshine and thro’ storm my heart Is wholly, truly thine.’” “Isn’t that lovely, Betty? My Valentine, you truly are.” And she kissed the verses so rapturously that Betty laughed merrily. “It does me good to see you really in love at last, Lettice. I used to think you ‘quite gone’ when Robert Clinton was with us.” “Do not speak of that; yet, by the way, what do you think? Ellicott saw him in Philadelphia last week, and instead of fighting a duel, as they had both vowed to when they should next meet, they actually shook hands over the good news of peace at last. And Ellicott told him of me, and, so he says, Mr. Clinton looked quite pale at what he told him of our engagement, but wished him joy and congratulated him as bravely as his best friend would do. He sent me his best wishes, too, and so I may consider that he has forgiven me. On top of all this, to-day comes a letter from Rhoda to Aunt Martha, a dutiful letter, as Rhoda’s always are. Here it is; I will read you what she says: ‘My father has long been anxious to make a match between myself and Robert Clinton, and so I have consented. Robert and I have a warm affection for each other and have known each other from childhood. I think I know all of his faults as well as his virtues. Each of us has a past to confess, as you well know, my dear aunt, but it is a past that can never be recalled, and I shall not be a less dutiful daughter and wife because of mine.’” “Poor Jamie!” sighed Betty. “Yes, but I am glad of this piece of news. I shall not care to meet Mr. Robert Clinton again, but Rhoda I shall always love, and I believe she loves me.” And indeed, Rhoda came all the way from Boston to be Lettice’s bridesmaid, for the wedding took place in the spring. Lettice declared that she would never leave her father, and since Joe and Patsey had come to Baltimore to live, it was high time that they were leaving her uncle’s. “Bless me!” said Betty, “we shall be ruined in preparing for so many weddings; Patsey’s first, and then yours, before we have taken breath. Will you come down and be married from our new house, Lettice? It isn’t as big as the old home, but it will hold a warm welcome for our friends. To be sure, we can kill no fatted calf, for all the British left us is one old ewe, and William and I are counting upon starting life over again, depending upon her as our sole prospect of future wealth.”