e have neither of us
cared for anybody before. Our marriage was evidently made in heaven. And
then Mr. Caro settled the matter by accepting me as his master."

"And you love the donkeys, we hear?"

"I love all animals in general," returned Lorenzo, "and of course
Loretta's donkeys in particular. If she could have an additional
attraction in my eyes, it is her power over the dumb birds and beasts,
which proves the goodness of her soul. I cannot approach her in that
respect."

"And when are you going to be married?"

"Has Loretta not told you that?" said Lorenzo, the colour flushing to
his face. "We are to be married to-morrow morning. Everything is ready.
Loretta has her wedding-gown, and our rooms have been furnished some
time. They are over my workshop, so that I shall be able to hear her
singing whilst I am planing and sawing below. Here it is, senor; will
you not come in and look at it? I think," a bright light in his eyes,
"we shall be very happy. After we are married to-morrow we go to
Barcelona for a few days, where I have a prosperous brother who will
take us in. Then we come back and settle down to our life. Yes, I think
we shall be as happy as the day's long, senor."

We had no doubt about it. Happiness in this world is for such as these.
Excellent natures, saved from the great cares and responsibilities of
those in a higher walk; working for their daily bread, which is
abundantly supplied; contented with their lot; knowing nothing of
impossible wants and wishes; loving and shedding abroad their love. It
is such natures as Loretta's and Lorenzo's that are the truly happy.
Their very names harmonized. But they are rare amongst their own class;
one might almost say rare in any class; the exception, not the rule. It
was good to come upon two such people, and to find that a kindly fate
had reserved them for each other.

We left Lorenzo in his workshop, a strong, manly fellow, using his plane
with a skilful hand, and went our way.

Right and left Loretta was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was arranging
things at home for the last time. The last evening in the old nest. She
might be contemplating her wedding-gown, lost in thoughts of the past or
dreams of the future. But she was not one to look on the sad side of
life, or to spend time in melancholy introspection.

From the picturesque old bridge beneath which the river ran its swift
course, the scene was wild, picturesque and lonely. With all our
loiterin