“My wife! my wife! you have! you do——” ejaculated Hugh Hutton, with his full heart gushing in every tone, until it choked his utterance, and he stopped. Through all their painful struggle he had not broken down until now; and now—but she was talking again, murmuring in her sweet, deep tones again, and he bent to listen, to hear her whisper: “Oh, Hugh! such a night as I have passed; such resistance of the demon, before he would flee from me. But the war is over now—quite over! The estate, the projects are all resigned, and not regretted—for, oh, Hugh! where could I find such richness and fullness of life and joy as——” Her low voice died away with her breath along his cheek and chestnut hair. But it was Garnet’s nature or her present mood to pour forth the fullness of her heart in words. She spoke again: “Oh, Hugh, I am so glad, so comforted and strengthened, so proud of you, that you did not yield one jot or tittle of the right, even for my love. Oh, Hugh! oh, Hugh! my guide and guard! be always good, and great, and strong, that I may have full life and joy in loving you. And when you have drawn your Nettie up to your own high moral level, soar you higher still, that, though rising herself, she may see you ever above her, and honor you as now! as now!” “Oh, God, have I deserved this!” exclaimed Hugh Hutton, raising his eyes in grateful adoration an instant, and then bending them with unutterable love on Garnet, as he ejaculated in earnest, fervent, broken language: “Nettie! Nettie! not Heaven, not Heaven could give me a higher incentive to high resolve than He has given me in your faith—in your faith!” He pressed his lips to hers, and from that first burning kiss the tide of eloquence found way. He snatched her up in his arms, hurried into the parlor, set her in a chair, sank down by her side, and, folding his arms adoringly around her form, poured forth, in words of fire, the long-pent, great passion of his heart. CHAPTER XL. ELSIE’S FORTUNES. You shall be blessed as once you were with friends, and home, and all That in the exulting joy of love your own you fondly call; Beloved and loving faces that you’ve known so long as well; The dear familiar places where your childish footsteps fell.