He jumps out, and lifts her ashore.
"See!" she says, as the blush of his embrace subsides--"See!" and prettily she mimics awe and feels it a little, "the cypress does point towards us.

O Richard! it does!" And he, looking at her rather than at the cypress, delighting in her arch grave ways-- "Why, there's hardly any shadow at all, Lucy.

She mustn't dream, my darling! or dream only of me." "Dearest! but I do." "To-morrow, Lucy! The letter in the morning, and you at night.

O happy to-morrow!" "You will be sure to be there, Richard ?" "If I am not dead, Lucy." "O Richard! pray, pray do not speak of that.

I shall not survive you." "Let us pray, Lucy, to die together, when we are to die.