"Altogether likely," he said, laughing, and giving her another hug; "but, being a man, it wouldn't do at all to allow my feelings to overcome me in that manner. Besides, with my darling little wife still left me, I'd be an ungrateful wretch to repine at the absence of other dear ones."
"What a neat little speech, Ned!" she exclaimed, lifting her head to look up into his face, and laughing through her tears—for her eyes had filled again. "Well, you know I can't help feeling a little lonely and sad just at first; but, for all that, I wouldn't for the world be anywhere else than here in your arms:" and with a sigh of content and thankfulness, she let her pretty head drop upon his breast again.
"My darling! may it ever be to you the happiest place on earth! God helping me, I shall always try to make it so," he said, with a sudden change to gravity, and in low, moved tones.
"My dear, dear husband!" she murmured, clinging closer to him.
Then, wiping her eyes, "I sha'n't cry any more; for, if I'm not the happiest woman in the world, I ought to be. And what a nice time we shall have together, dear Ned! each wholly devoted to the other all winter long. I have it all planned out: while you are out about the plantation in the mornings, I'll attend to my housekeeping and my studies; and in the afternoons and evenings,—after I've recited,—we can write our letters, or entertain ourselves and each other with music or books; you can read to me while I work, you know."
"Yes: a book is twice as enjoyable read in that way—sharing the pleasure with you," he said, softly stroking her hair, and smiling down into her eyes.
"Especially if it is a good story, or a bit of lovely poetry," she added.
"Yes," he said: "we'll have both those in turn, and some solid reading besides."
"I don't like solid reading," she returned, with a charming pout.
"One may cultivate a taste for it, I think," he answered pleasantly.