No more! when it dreams of and clings to that thought of meeting, as the life and vital blood of to-morrow!--when the heart is liquid--the eyes moist with tenderness--the warp of thought woven of golden thread--at such a moment for the blow of the wave to fall, and drown the precious argosy with all its freight of love, and hope, and memory--this is the supreme agony of youth, the last and most refined of tortures.
Verty lived in the thought of meeting Redbud--his days were full of her; but the hours he passed at Apple Orchard were the brightest.

The noonday culminated at dawn and sunset! As he approached the pleasant homestead now, his eyes lighted up, and his face beamed with smiles.

Redbud was standing in the porch waiting for him.
She was clad with her usual simplicity, and smiled gently as he approached.

Verty threw the bundle upon Cloud's mane, and came to her.
They scarcely interchanged a word, but the hand of the girl was imprisoned in his own; and the tenderness which had been slowly gathering for months into love, pure, and deep, and strong, flushed his ingenuous face, and made his eyes swim in tears.
It was well that Verty was interrupted as he essayed to speak; for we cannot tell what he would have said.

He did not speak; for just as he opened his lips, a gruff voice behind him uttered the words: "Well, sir! where is your business ?".