d on me.

"I cannot believe," in the pride of my joy, I whispered into one little
ear, "that you could ever so love me, beauty, as to give up the world
for me."

"Would you give up your farm for me, John?" cried Lorna, leaping back
and looking, with her wondrous power of light at me; "would you give up
your mother, your sisters, your home, and all that you have in the world
and every hope of your life, John?"

"Of course I would. Without two thoughts. You know it; you know it,
Lorna."

"It is true that I do," she answered in a tone of deepest sadness; "and
it is this power of your love which has made me love you so. No good can
come of it, no good. God's face is set against selfishness."

As she spoke in that low tone I gazed at the clear lines of her face
(where every curve was perfect) not with love and wonder only, but with
a strange new sense of awe.

"Darling," I said, "come nearer to me. Give me surety against that. For
God's sake never frighten me with the thought that He would part us."

"Does it then so frighten you?" she whispered, coming close to me; "I
know it, dear; I have known it long; but it never frightens me. It makes
me sad, and very lonely, till I can remember."

"'Till you can remember what?" I asked, with a long, deep shudder; for we
are so superstitious.

"Until I do remember, love, that you will soon come back to me, and be
my own for ever. This is what I always think of, this is what I hope
for."

Although her eyes were so glorious, and beaming with eternity, this
distant sort of beatitude was not much to my liking. I wanted to have
my love on earth; and my dear wife in my own home; and children in good
time, if God should please to send us any. And then I would be to them,
exactly what my father was to me. And beside all this, I doubted much
about being fit for heaven; where no ploughs are, and no cattle, unless
sacrificed bulls went thither.

Therefore I said, "Now kiss me, Lorna; and don't talk any nonsense." And
the darling came and did it; being kindly obedient, as the other world
often makes us.

"You sweet love," I said at this, being slave to her soft obedience; "do
you suppose I should be content to leave you until Elysium?"

"How on earth can I tell, dear John, what you will be content with?"

"You, and only you," said I; "the whole of it lies in a syllable. Now
you know my entire want; and want must be my comfort."

"But surely if I have money, sir, and birth, and r