"Dismiss these gloomy thoughts. The letters were true—"
"O, you are certain,—certain—"
"I swear it,—swear it by all I hold dear on earth or hope hereafter."
"O, do not swear, Beverly. Who could doubt you?"
They passed toward the light again. She wiped the tears from her eyes—those eyes which shone all the brighter for the tears.
"And the day after to-morrow," said Beverly, as he rested his hand upon her shoulder,—"we will leave for Italy—"
"You have been in Italy?" asked Joanna.
"O, yes dearest, and Italy is only another name for Eden," he replied, growing warm, even eloquent—"there far removed from a cold, a heartless world, we will live, we will die together!"
"Would it not," she said, in a low whisper, as with her hand on his shoulders and her bosom beating against his own, she looked up earnestly into his face, "O, would it not be well, could we but die at this moment,—now, when our love is in its youngest and purest bloom,—die here on this cold earth, only to live again, and live with each other in a happier world?"
And in her emotion, she wound her aims convulsively about his neck and buried her face upon his breast.