Oh, Mike! Mike! Mike! is it you at last?
Oh, Esther, Esther, is it you?
Their faces were so bright, as they gazed at each other, that it seemed
they might change to stars and wing together away up into the morning.
Henry snatched one look at the brightness and turned away.
"She looked like a spirit!" said Mike, as they met again further along
the road.
"He looked like a little angel," said Esther, as she threw herself into
Dot's sympathetic arms.
A few miles from Sidon there stood an old church, dim with memories, in
a churchyard mossy with many graves. It was hither some few hours after
that unwonted carriages were driving through the snow of that happy
winter's day. In one of them Esther and Henry were sitting,--Esther
apparelled in--but here the local papers shall speak for us: "The
bride," it said, "was attired in a dress of grey velvet trimmed with
beaver, and a large picturesque hat with feathers to match; she carried
a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and hyacinths."
"The very earth has put on white to be your bridesmaid!" said Henry,
looking out on the sunlit snow.
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