eek, the trick of the lip, the glance of the eye; the rise and fall of
the voice are the same; and the intense familiarity makes our very
spirit swim in joy. We are amazed at our previous fancy--we laugh at
the solemn stiffness in which our friend stood before our mind's eye,
and to relieve which we had striven to recall the ludicrous situations
and merry moods, in which that form and that face had been seen; and
perhaps we have no peace till we have acknowledged to the beloved one
the ingenuity of our self-tormentings. Is there a girl whose heart is
with her brother at college, who does not feel this regularly as the
vacation comes round? Is there a parent whose child is reaping honours
in the field of life, and returning childlike from time to time, to rest
in the old country-home--is there such a parent who is not conscious of
the misgiving and the re-assurance, as often as the absence and the
re-union occur? Is there even the most trustful of wives, whose husband
is on the other side of the globe, that is wholly undisturbed by the
transmutation of the idol in her mind? When the husband is returning,
and her hungry heart is feasting on the anticipation of his appearance,
she may revel in the thought--

"And will I see his face again,
And will I hear him speak?"

But it is not till that vivid face and that piercing voice thrill her
sight and her ear again that all misgiving vanishes. There is nothing
in life that can compensate for long partings. There ought to be few or
no insurmountable obstacles to the frequent meetings, however short, of
those who love each other. No duties and no privileges can be of more
importance than the preservation, in all their entireness, of domestic
familiarity and faith.

A very short separation will afford the experience of a long one, if it
be full of events, or if the image of the absent one be dwelt upon, from
hour to hour, with laborious strivings of the fancy. It has been said
that this week of Hester's absence was the longest that Margaret had
ever known. Besides this, she felt that she had forgotten her sister
further than she could have supposed possible after a ten years'
separation. On the evening when she was expecting the travellers home,
her heart was sick with expectation; and yet she was conscious of a
timidity which made her feel as if alone in the world. Again and again
she looked round her, to fancy what would be the aspect, of everything
to Hester'