His pulse to quicker beat, and send a thrill
Of strange mysterious feeling thro' his veins.
He knew not how, or why: but Philip hurried on
That he might keep the promised holiday
With all the children—his, and hers, and theirs—
All dear to him; nor least the bonny Ralph,
That last wee prattler, climbing to his knee.
And all were ready with their nutting crooks;
And Annie Ray, his own, his wife at last,—
His "beam of sunshine," as he called her oft.