"And how joyous! It is the one emotion to be fed and fostered. 'All others are but vanity.' I will persist in loving you until I die."
"That is a foolish saying; and, even if you do, what will come of it all?" says Monica, with a sigh.
"Marriage, I trust," returns he, right cheerily. "Because, to give you another example of love's endurance, and to quote old Southey to you, I will tell you that he says,—
'It is indestructable;
Its holy flame forever burneth:
From heaven it came, to heaven returneth.'
but not yet awhile, I hope."
"You are a special pleader," says she, with a sudden smile.
"For the cause that I plead I would that I were a more eloquent advocate."
"You are eloquent enough," glancing at him for a moment, and then again turning away from him; "too eloquent," she says, with a little sigh.
He is still holding her hands, but now he does not speak or answer her in any wise. A silence falls upon them, calm as the night. In "full orbed glory" the moon above sails through the skies.
"A dewy freshness fills the silent air;
No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain,
Breaks the serene of heaven."