“Our absent King the watch-word gave,
‘Let every lamp be burning;’
We look afar across the wave,
Our distant home discerning.
For oh, we stand on Jordan’s strand,
Our friends are passing over,
And, just before, the shining shore
We may almost discover.”
Monday was a bright, beautiful day, spent by our friends very much as usual. They had been unusually long without letters from their homes or that vicinity, and were growing a trifle anxious; Calhoun in especial, as he felt that he himself had had a good vacation, and it was time that his brother, the doctor, was taking his turn. Yet there was a very strong tie binding him for the present to the spot where he was. He and Mary Keith had come to an understanding and were mutual lovers, only awaiting the consent of her parents to become engaged. He had written to Mr. Keith, telling him frankly of his circumstances and prospects, his love for Mary, and desire to make her his wife at the earliest day on which her parents could be induced to resign her to him, also of her willingness to become his; concluding his letter by a reference to their cousin and his uncle, Mr. Dinsmore, for any desired information in regard to his character and the correctness of his statements concerning his ability, present and prospective, to support a wife and family.
He and Mary walked out that morning soon after breakfast, strolled along the beach for a time, then seated themselves within sight of their temporary home.