Austin is as brave as any of them .-- My own bride! Oh, how I adore you! When you are gone, I could fall upon the grass you tread upon, and kiss it.

My breast feels empty of my heart--Lucy! if we lived in those days, I should have been a knight, and have won honour and glory for you.

Oh! one can do nothing now.

My lady-love! My lady-love!--A tear ?--Lucy ?" "Dearest! Ah, Richard! I am not a lady." "Who dares say that?
Not a lady--the angel I love!" "Think, Richard, who I am." "My beautiful! I think that God made you, and has given you to me." Her eyes fill with tears, and, as she lifts them heavenward to thank her God, the light of heaven strikes on them, and she is so radiant in her pure beauty that the limbs of the young man tremble.
"Lucy! O heavenly spirit! Lucy!" Tenderly her lips part--"I do not weep for sorrow." The big bright drops lighten, and roll down, imaged in his soul.
They lean together--shadows of ineffable tenderness playing on their thrilled cheeks and brows.
He lifts her hand, and presses his mouth to it.

She has seen little of mankind, but her soul tells her this one is different from others, and at the thought, in her great joy, tears must come fast, or her heart will break--tears of boundless thanksgiving.