"So be it," she answered seriously, looking into the fire, "but why I spoke, is, because so many, in fact nearly every one, enters the marriage vocation now-a-days, as though twere a trifling risk, as though to a woman it were not fraught with the sublimest responsibilities it is possible for the noblest woman to assume, as though it were indeed, nothing more, than the gratification of having secured a husband, the fuss of an elaborate trousseau or the _éclat_ of a wedding ceremony. Why are our cities so plentiful of sin and shame, and wrecked youth, if not, because of women who never considered the serious importance of their vocation as mothers, who were unworthy their title of wives, who tired of their self-assumed duties. If any of these destinies awaited me, Guy, I would rather die to-night, than risk them--the thought makes me shudder." "You, Honor?" he said, viewing her with very evident admiration, "such a destiny as that for _you,_ you are jesting, for since you can save, and reclaim others, you know, you are above every taint of evil yourself." "You still persist in your obstinate view, eh?" she said, smiling. "Well, remember, I warned you in time. I hope there will never be cause for regret in the future." It was growing late as they sat there talking quietly. The sun-streaks vanished from the window sill; the dark, grey shadows of twilight began to steal around them, but they scarcely heeded the change. They loved one another now with that pure and ardent love which finds all satisfaction, and all comfort in it's own existence. They had not shown their attachment in wild enthusiasm or showy demonstration, but it is not the largest flames that burn the most intensely. The love that lies quietly, unspoken in the heart, the love that endures in silence, that strengthens in solitude, that thrives in hope, is the truest and holiest, and most exalted love of which the human heart is susceptible. Such love never dies. As it has lived, so there comes a time, sooner or later, when the heart's dream may safely float on the surface of the deep, honest eyes, and the heart's desire flow in fitting terms over the unsullied lips. Such a love invariably brings its own reward. The darkness had nearly spread its thickness from ceiling to floor, when Jean d'Alberg put her head in at the sitting room door, and exclaimed, "Well, upon my word; such 'two spoons' I never did see in all my life!" Both young people looked up and smiled. "If you'll please to substitute two spoons for _tea_-spoons you may come to the dining-room now, for tea is quite ready," she said, disappearing out the doorway again. Hand-in-hand Guy and Honor rose, and went out to patronize Aunt Jean's comfortable table.