A life of such wild blessedness? It would be fearful like living in some
magic land, where the honest laws of nature were not. A life?--a moment
were enough. Ages of common life would shine in it. (_Reading again_.)
"Elliston's hut?"--"If I choose that the return should be mutual,--and
the memorials of a despised regard can at best be but an indifferent
possession;--a pacquet reinclosed directly in this same envelope, and
left at the hut of the missionary, cannot fail to reach him safely."
"Safely."--Might he not come there safely then? And might I not go
thither safely too, in to-morrow's light? O God, let not Passion lead me
now. The centre beaming truth, not passion's narrow ray, must light me
here!--But am I not his?
Once more, one horizon circles, for a day, our long-parted destinies;
another, and another wave of these wild times will drift them asunder
again, forever; and I count myself his wife. His wife?--nay, his bride,
his two years' bride, to-night, his wife, to-morrow. He must meet me
there, (_writing_) at noon, I will say.--I did not think that little hut
of logs should have been my marriage-hall;--he must meet me there, and
to-morrow is my bridal day.
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