And now to them the world seemed a paradise indeed, and life one long summer day, o’er which no cloud could ever come, to shadow their sunny hopes. The blue sky seemed clearer above their heads—the flowers were brighter, and the fair earth fairer still. Happiness was theirs, for they were all to one another, and as the hours passed unheeded, and the gleaming stars burst forth into the quiet heavens, they raised their eyes and likened their love to the quenchless beauty of its countless lamps. Alas, poor dreamers! ye are granted this one momentary perfection of bliss! Ye can linger for once over this dawn of promised light—for once ye are convinced of its duration. But the sky must darken, the lamps must go out—the flowers must perish—the hopes must wither! There is but one hope—one home of happiness—the home that is not to be won without its pains, its fierce and mighty struggles, its chastenings, that purify and fit the soul for the presence of Him who promised it to the pure of heart. Poor Minnie had to wake from her dream of love, but not yet—not until she was once more in the giddy round of engagements for the spring. It was at Mrs. Bliss’s last soirée that she was seen flying about like a vision of light, while Harry Selby watched her every glance. He had a right to be proud of her, for she was his own—his promised one, and proud he was. But a shade passed over his face as he beheld her extending to another the same smiles she gave to him; exerting for another the same fascinations that bound him captive from the hour he first beheld her. He did not intend, dear reader, that Minnie should give up all for him; he did not expect her to be less gay or less fond of dancing, but he could see no difference now between her conduct to those around her, and to him alone. He had a right to more than they, but although Minnie’s engagement was generally known, she allowed her lover to be pitied or jested with upon the danger of marrying a flirt, who cared more for admiration than for the love he bore her.