“Well, now,” said he, “Caroline shall know of this at once. She must have it explained to her sooner or later—why Cleaveland went off in so strange a manner; better hear it from me than from her lover; it will be awkward for him to tell it; and, besides, she has suffered enough already; and now, when better things are in store for her, the sooner she enters into the enjoyment of them the better.” * * * * Before Caroline slept that night, there was, for her, balm, and a physician—and her sorrows were all healed.
The next week the lovers met without explanation,—save the tears of Caroline, and the trembling lips and hand of Charles. They met, as if they had parted acknowledged lovers, and been, since that time, cut off from each other by some sore calamity. From their dark hour broke forth a rosy dawn which in time was kindled to perfect day. The bloom soon gathered again on Caroline’s cheek, and her eye was once more soul-lit.
Charles was not long in obtaining a respectable settlement. Caroline was henceforth permitted to manage her own affairs; to make her outfit such as became a country clergyman’s wife, with every provision for comfort and none for display; and to have a perfectly unostentatious wedding, without a supper—without even champagne.
She lived to realize her father’s beau-ideal of a woman’s happiness—to be the “all-in-all of pleasure” to a man in every way worthy of her.
AT HOME.
BY MRS. ANNA BACHE.
“Her storied lore she next applies,
Taxing her mind to aid her eyes.”
BRIDAL OF TRIERMAIN.
Thou lookest wearily, my love, but now the toil some day