"What is it, little wife?" he asked.
"Ah, Edward, how can we spare her—our darling, our first-born?"
"Perhaps we shall not be called upon to do so; he may not have won her heart."
She shook her head with a faint smile.
"She has tried to hide it—dear innocent child! but I know the symptoms; I have not forgotten." And she looked up into his face, blushing and happy as in the days when he had wooed and won his bride.
"Yes, dearest; what a little while ago it seems! Ah, those were gladsome days to us; were they not?"
"Gladsome? Ah, yes! their memory is sweet to this hour. Yet I do not sigh for their return; I would not bring them back; a deeper, calmer blessedness is mine. My dear husband,
"'I bless thee for the noble heart,
The tender and the true,
Where mine hath found the happiest rest
That e'er fond woman's knew;
I bless thee, faithful friend and guide,
For my own, my treasur'd share,
In the mournful secrets of thy soul,
In thy sorrow and thy care.'"
"Thank you, my darling," he said, lifting her hand to his lips, his eyes shining. "Yes;
"We have lived and loved together,
Through many changing years,
We have shared each other's sorrows,
And we've wept each other's tears.
"Let us hope the future
As the past has been, may be,
I'll share with thee thy sorrows,
And thou my joys with me."