"The young man saw these things too. He was not blind, and he kept aloof and never committed himself by word or deed. He was courteous to all, but waited until he should see the girl whom he might endow, not with his worldly goods alone, but with the richer gift of a whole, true, pure heart—such a girl as he could reverently take to his own heart and home, as a most precious gift from God." "He met this girl by a strange incident, in a far-away spot and at a farmhouse. Do not start, dear child; hear me out. He wished to tell her what was in his heart, but love for the old mother made him determine first to speak to her, and he hoped to go back to the farm carrying her consent and blessing along with his love story, to its object. He was half afraid, too, for you must know that he did not quite understand the old mother with whom he had passed his twenty-five years of life. He thought she might wish him to choose a girl who had riches as well as worth. Whereas, what the mother wanted was a girl of this kind: well-born and educated, pure-minded, modest, requiring to be sought before she was won, bright in temper, unselfish in disposition, brave where courage was needed, and yet thankful, as woman should be, to lean on a strong arm, if it pleased God to give her one in the shape of a good husband. And the mother thought that the girl could not be all these things unless she had the love of God in her heart, and thus shining out in her daily life." "Money immaterial, she wanted her son to have the fortune in his wife." "The son saw the girl I told you of, and took great pains to make himself acquainted with her life-history, both before and after she ran away from the farm." "For she did run away, and certain circumstances enabled him to guess why, but he knew her whereabouts, and bided his time. Dear me! I shall not be able to finish my story," said Mrs. Marsden—for, utterly broken down by emotion, I was sobbing audibly—"in fact, the last chapter has still to be written, and I must offer you my Christmas gift." Mrs. Marsden opened the door, and Lawrence entered. "Here it, or I should say 'he' is, my dear. I do hope you will take him with a mother's blessing, and when the last chapter of the story is completed, you must turn story-teller, and let me know it." Mrs. Marsden kissed me affectionately, put my trembling hand in the firm grasp of her son, left the room with less than her usual stateliness, and closed the door behind her. "Lois, my dear, will you accept the mother's Christmas gift, and will you let me keep the hand she has placed in mine? You are the one love of my whole heart, Lois. Can you give me what I ask, darling, your love in return?" So spoke Lawrence. No wonder I found it difficult to reply, but I did manage once to look up in his dear, honest face, and to tell him, though with trembling lips, that he was the one love of my life too. And he was content. This Christmas Day was my fifth milestone.