ceful motion over the silvery waters, and uttering
their mournful cry, while far out vessels ploughed their way up and
down the Atlantic; but neither noticed. They were happy in each
other's love. Nancy had forgotten the fact that Robert Nancarrow was
not the kind of man she had meant to love, while he was far too happy
to care for the lecture she had given him. Her kisses were warm upon
his lips, her words of love rung in his ears. They were in the
dreamland of happy lovers, while the sky of their lives was as free
from clouds as the great dome of blue overhead. He was the only man
she had ever loved, or ever could love, while to him the maid, wilful
and passionate though she might be, was perfect. What were books,
learning, and the fame of scholarship to him now? He had won the love
of the girl whom for years he had loved, and ever despaired of winning.
She, who had seemed so far away from him, so far above him, had come to
his arms, willingly, gladly. She, with her proud old name, and almost
lordly wealth, had chosen him, and forgotten everything in her choice.

It seemed too wonderful to be true, and he looked at her again and
again in his wonder, proud beyond all words, yet almost afraid to
believe in his good fortune.

"Oh, Nancy, you are beautiful!"

The light of joy flashed from her eyes. What girl is there beneath the
all-beholding heavens who does not long to know that the man she loves
thinks her beautiful?--Who does not long for him to tell her?

"And what a lovely dress you are wearing."

"I've worn it three times since you came down from Oxford, and you've
never once mentioned it."

"I never saw it as I see it now. I never saw as I see you now. Nancy,
there's no one like. Bless you, my love, for loving me."

But I must not dwell on that happy hour, much as I would love to. We
who are older may laugh at "Love's young dream," and grow cynical about
its transitory nature. We may say that lovers live in a fool's
paradise, and that the dream of lovers ends in the tragedies of later
years. Still, there's nothing sweeter or purer on God's green earth
than the love of a clean-minded honest lad for the maid he has chosen
from all others. It keeps the world young and hopeful; humanly
speaking, it is life's greatest joy, and the man who can throw scorn
upon its joys and utter cynical words about its reality has himself
lost the pearl of great price. It is he who is to be pitied, and not
the l