“Let me take your hand, Francis,” said Clara. “Did you know I was a seer? No! then listen.”
The laughter-loving girl took his hand, and putting on an awful look, she began—“Where grow the tall elms greenest, lies hid a vine-covered cottage. Ha! you start, brother mine. I am right! That we will take for granted. We will also take for granted that the said cottage is a paragon of a cottage. Within—ah! there’s the charm. What! blushing, Frank! Am I not a good diviner? Let me see—oh! she is beautiful! A Peri come down on earth to live. A fairy—for naught but a fairy—no mortal maiden could be fashioned fair enough to suit my perfectionist of a brother. Here is a line I do not quite comprehend. Ah! I see—there is some difficulty: it only proves what the great bard said—‘The course of true love’—you know the rest. The fairy maiden does not look kindly on you. See! these lines cross one another: but the cross line is short; after that all is clear. Her eyes will yet look love on you. Her home will yet be in your heart. So, courage, brother!”
All were now eager to hear their fortunes, but the capricious girl turned to the piano; before she had half finished her song she abruptly asked,—
“Mamma, what is love?”
“Love, my dear?—why it is a principle inherent within us. The feeling I have for you is love. God is love, and all his creation is ruled by the laws of love.”
“Cousin Edward, what is your definition of love?”
“Love,” said Edward, looking into the depths of her laughing blue eyes, “love is love.”
“Good!—that will do for you. So now, Frank, it is your turn Francis—brother.”
“What, Clara?”
“Where are you wandering?”