—As one might love a star The brightest where ten thousand are Sadly and silently, Without a hope or scarce a wish That she would link her fate with his Along life’s dreary way. They stood together beneath the free blue sunny sky. His high brow was flushed, and his whole frame quivered with the impetuous emotions that would no longer be controlled, and even in their hopelessness had uttered the words that might never be recalled. She listened silently, and when at length she raised her dark blue eyes to his they were filled with tears. “Have you thought well ere you told me this?” she said in a low tremulous tone. “Know you that if you would unite your fate with mine you must turn from the glad pathway of life, and tread a dark lone valley that leads to a shadowy bourne where we must part? Know you that the radiance of youth and health has long since faded from my path, and of all my expectations there remains but one—that one is Death—and of all my hopes, only the hope of heaven. However dearly you may love me, I can never be wholly yours—even now I am wedded to another—I am the bride of the Grave.” “I have known it all—I have felt it all. I know that love’s highest boon may be but to catch the last look, the last sigh—yet even with this certainty that love is dearer to me than ought else on earth. I ask for nothing but to hear you say that I am beloved—I dare expect nothing but to watch with you the fleeting of the few months that remain to you on earth, and as you stand beneath the portals of the grave to receive one last assurance of undying affection as they close between us—one promise that you will be mine—mine still, in heaven.” “Yet I would not have it so,” said she musingly. “Why should I throw the shadow of the tomb over your path? Why should I chill your blood with the cold touch of death? No, no, George, leave me, and since you cannot forget, think of me but as an angel in heaven.” But even as she spoke her voice grew fainter and fainter, and when she ceased she sunk upon his breast exhausted by the struggle of feelings too strong for a form so frail. He bent over her— “Once, only once, thou only beloved—only once say that thou art mine,” he murmured in low thrilling tones. She raised her face, and their eyes met in a long earnest gaze. Then slowly and tremblingly her white lips opened— “Thine, thine forever.” * * * * *