s if to complete
the likeness.'

'I did not quite know it was snowing. I like it, for it suits your
country.'

'I like it, because you are as clear, firm, and pure as my own clear
crystal ice,' he said; 'only not quite so cold! And now, what remains?
Must your brothers be consulted?' he added, reluctantly.

'It will be right that I should tell them,' said Phoebe. 'From Robert I
could not keep such a thing, and Mervyn has a right to know. I cannot
tell how he may take it, but I do not think that I owe him such implicit
obedience as if he were my father. And by the time you really ask for
me, you know you are to be such a rising engineer that they are all to be
almost as proud of you as I am!'

'God helping me,' he gravely answered, his eyes raised upwards, and as it
were carrying with them the glance that had sought them in almost playful
confidence.

And thus they looked forth upon this life. Neither was so young as not
to be aware of its trials. She knew the sorrows of suspense,
bereavement, and family disunion; and he, before his twenty-fourth year,
had made experience of adversity, uncongeniality, disappointment, and
severe--almost hopeless--everyday labour. It was not in the spirit of
those who had not braced on their armour, but of those who had made proof
of it, that they looked bravely and cheerfully upon the battle, feeling
their strength doubled as faithful companions-in-arms, and willing in
that strength and trust to bear patiently with the severest trial of
all--the delay of their hopes. The cold but bracing wind, the snow
driving and whirling round them in gusts, could not daunt nor quench
their spirits--nay, rather gave them additional vigour and enjoyment,
while even the tokens of the tempest that they bore away were of perfect
dazzling whiteness.

Never was shelter less willingly attained than when the park wicket of
the Underwood was reached, just as the early twilight was becoming
darkness. It was like a foretaste for Phoebe of seeing him go his own
way in the storm while she waited safely housed; but they parted with
grave sweet smiles, and a promise that he would snatch a moment's
farewell on the morrow. Phoebe would rather not have been met by Bertha,
at the front door, in some solicitude--'You are come at last! Are you
wet? are you cold?'

'Oh, no, thank you! Don't stand in the draught,' said Phoebe, anxious to
shake her off; but it was not to be done. Bertha preceded her up-s