Had all my previous sufferings been multiplied a hundred times, I should have been indemnified for all in the month that followed my restoration to the parsonage.  Evening after evening, when the business of the day was closed, did we together wander amongst the scenes that were so dear to us—­too happy in the enjoyment of the present, dwelling with pleasure on the past, dreaming wildly—­as the young must dream—­of the uncreated future.  I spoke of earthly happiness, and believed it not a fable.  What could be brighter than our promises?  What looked more real—­less likely to be broken?  How sweet was our existence!  My tongue would never cease to paint in dazzling colours the days that yet awaited us.  I numbered over the joys of a domestic life, told her of the divine favour that accompanies contentment, and how angels of heaven hover over the house in which it dwells united to true love.  Nor was there wanting extravagant and fanciful discourse, such as may be spoken by the prodigal heart to its co-mate, when none are by to smile and wonder at blind feeling.

“Dear Ellen,” have I said, in all the fulness of my passion—­“what a life is this we lead! what heavenly joy!  To be for ever only as we are, were to have more of God’s kindness and beloved care than most of earthly creatures may.  Indissolubly joined, and in each other’s light to live, and in each other’s sight alone to seek those blessings wedded feelings may bestow—­to perceive and know ourselves as one—­to breathe as one the ripe delicious air—­to fix on every object of our mutual love the stamp and essence of one living heart—­to walk abroad, and find glad sympathy in all created things—­this, this is to be conscious of more lasting joy—­to have more comfort in the sight of God, than they did know, the happy parent pair, when heaven smiled on earth, and earth was heaven, connected both by tenderest links of love.”

She did not answer, when my soul ran riot in its bliss.  She listened, and she sighed, as though experience cut off the promises of hope, or as if intimations of evil began already to cast their shadows, and to press upon her soul!

Time flew as in a dream.  The sunny days passed on, finding and leaving me without a trouble or a fear—­happy and entranced.  Each hour discovered new charms in my betrothed, and every day unveiled a latent grace.  How had I merited my great good fortune?  How could I render myself worthy of her love?  It was not long before the object of my thoughts, sleeping and waking, became a living idol, and I, a reckless worshipper.

Doctor Mayhew had been a faithful friend, and such he continued, looking to the interests of the friendless, which might have suffered in the absence of so good an advocate.  It was he, as I learnt, who had drawn from the incumbent his reluctant consent to my return.  My departure following my thoughtless declaration so quickly, was not without visible effect on her who had such deep concern in it.  Her trouble was