od who made your face so fair,
And gave your woman's heart its tenderness,
So shield the blessing He implanted there,
That it may never turn to your distress,
And never cost you trouble or despair,
Nor granted leave the granted comfortless,
But like a river blest where'er it flows,
Be still receiving while it still bestows.

JEAN INGELOW.

So far, that my doom is, I love thee still,
Let no man dream but that I love thee still.

TENNYSON'S _Guinevere_.

"Shall we soon be home, Hugh?"

"Very soon, Wee Wifie."

"Then please put down that great crackling paper behind which you have
been asleep the last two hours, and talk to me a little. I want to
know the names of the villages through which we are passing, the big
houses, and the people who live in them, that I may not enter my dear
new home a perfect stranger to its surroundings;" and Lady Redmond
shook out her furs, and settled herself anew with fresh dignity.

Sir Hugh yawned for the twentieth time behind his paper, rubbed his
eyes, stretched himself, and then let down the window and looked
absently down the long country road winding through stubble land; and
then at the eddying heaps of dry crisp leaves now blown by a strong
November wind under the horses' feet, and now whirling in crazy
circles like witches on Walpurgis's night, until after a shivering
remonstrance from his little wife he put up the window with a jerk,
and threw himself back with a discontented air on the cushions.

"There is nothing to be seen for a mile or two, Fay, and it is growing
dusk now; it will soon be too dark to distinguish a single object;"
and so saying, he relapsed into silence, and took up the obnoxious
paper again, though the words were scarcely legible in the twilight;
while the young bride tried to restrain her weariness, and sat
patiently in her corner. Poor Hugh, he was already secretly repenting
of the hasty step he had taken; two months of Alpine scenery, of
quaint old German cities, of rambling through galleries of art
treasures with his child-bride, and Hugh had already wearied of his
new bonds. All at once he had awakened from his brief delusion with an
agony of remembrance, with a terrible heart longing and homesickness,
with a sense of satiety and vacuum. Fay's gentleness and beauty palled
on him; her artless questioning fatigued him. In his secret s