I have tasted woman's highest, holiest joy,--the joy of loving and being beloved.

Sorrow and trial may be mine; but this remembrance will remain, a blessed light through the darkness of time,--'a star on eternity's ocean.'" As I passed and repassed the double mirror, my reflected figure seemed an apparition gliding by my side, I paused and stood before one of them, and I thought of the time when, first awakened to the consciousness of personal influence, I gazed on my own image.

Some writer has said, "that every woman is beautiful when she loves." There certainly is a light, coming up from the enkindled heart, bright as the solar ray, yet pure and soft as moonlight, which throws an illusion over the plainest features and makes them for the moment charming.

I saw the flower-girl of the library in the mirror, and then I knew that the artist had intended her as the idealization of Love's image.
And then I remembered the morning when we sat together in the library, and he took the roses from my basket and scattered the leaves at my feet..