"Evelyn has told you all, Marguerite?" said the young man rising
from his seat and approaching the spot where the girl stood smiling
through her tears--like golden sunshine through an April shower.
"And I have come, Phillip."
Who can picture the joy those words gave?
"Marguerite, my own! mine forever!" exclaimed the enraptured lover
pressing the maiden to his breast and impressing upon her lips such
kisses as only a pure, noble-minded man can give.
Oh, the bliss of that happy betrothal hour, when two souls are
forever made one--when two hearts outwardly estranged at last find
the realization of their earthly bliss!
Phillip Lawson goes forth from the cosey home as the affianced
husband of Marguerite Verne and with him go our heart's best wishes
for a life to be crowned with all the happiness that this world can
give.
Poor Mrs. Verne. She may at times have felt somewhat disappointed
when she thought how surely she could have had a baronet for a
son-in-law, but in charity for the woman's weakness we will forbear.
It is really wonderful how quickly news travels. Not a week had
passed ere Mr. Spriggins came in with a double share of
congratulation from himself and Melindy.
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