ken happiness--comparable to that
which fills a young's man whole soul when he stands beside the altar
with such a bride as Violet or Eva was?--when he thinks that the fair,
blushing girl, whose white hand trembles in his own, is to be the star
of his home, the mother of his children, the sunbeam shining steadily on
all his life? Verily he who hath experienced such a joy has found a
jewel richer:

"Than twenty seas though all their sands were pearl,
Their waters crystal, and their rocks pure gold."

The service was over, and in those few moments, four young souls had
passed over the marble threshold of married life. Violet felt that the
presence of De Vayne removed the only alloy to that deep happiness that
spoke in the eloquent lustre of her eye, and she told him so as he bent
to kiss her hand, and as Lady De Vayne clasped her to her heart with an
affectionate embrace. All the people of the village awaited them at the
porch, and as they passed along the path, the village children, lining
the way, and standing heedless on the green mounds that covered the
crumbling relics of mortality, scattered under their happy feet a
thousand flowers. One passing thought, perhaps, about the lesson which
those green mounds told, flitted through the minds of the bridal party
as they left the trodden blossoms to wither on the churchyard path, but
if so, it was but as the shadow of a summer cloud, and it vanished, as
with a sudden clash the bells rang out again, thrilling the tremulous
air with their enthusiasm of happy auguries, and the sailor boys of
Orton gave cheer on cheer while brides and bridegrooms entered their
carriages, and drove from under the umbrage of the churchyard yews to
the elms and oaks and lime-tree avenues of the hall.

Oh that happy day! The wedding breakfast had been laid in a large tent
on the lawn, whence you could catch bright glimpses of the blue sea, and
the islet, and the passing ships, while on all sides around it the
garden glowed a paradise of blossom, and the fragrance of sweet flowers
floated to them through the golden air. Rich fruits and gorgeous
bouquets covered the table, and the whole tent was gay with wreaths and
anadems. And then, what ringing laughter, what merry jests, what
earnest happy talk! Let us not linger there too long, and from this
scene I bid avaunt to the coarse cynical reader; who is too
strong-minded to believe in love.

Only let the _gentle_ reader fancy for himsel