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The glittering waterway, speaking of the labour and commerce of men, the blossom-laden earth, the white approaching mist, the softly falling night: the girl-bride could not tear herself from the spectacle. She sat beside the window entranced. But her husband had captured her hand, and into the overflowing beauty of nature there stole the thrill of their love.

The thought of Daisy, his little girl-bride, being sent to school amused him. "Poor little robin!" he murmured. "No wonder she flew from her bondage when she found the cage-door open! How pleased the little gypsy will be to see me!" he mused. "I will clasp the dear little runaway in my arms, and never let her leave me again!

"Master," she said, clasping her hands nervously together, "would it pain you to speak of the sweet, golden-haired young girl-bride who died on that terrible stormy night nearly seventeen years ago?" She saw his care-worn face grow white, and the lines of pain deepen around his mouth. "That is the most painful of all subjects to me," he said, slowly.

She was stung by the words. But did the girl-bride before her mean to flaunt her own triumphs in her face? Did she fully understand? Or was she trying to act a part and make them believe she was happy? Hannah was baffled once more as she had been before with Marcia.

Next morning he went early and secured transportation on the steamer, then returned and wrote a long letter to his girl-bride; then engaging a rig took in as much of Sidney as he could. Next morning he cabled his wife that he was just going to sea again, and boarded the steamer early.

"Because you gave me a new name Jane Rochester; and it seems so strange." "Yes, Mrs. Rochester," said he; "young Mrs. Rochester Fairfax Rochester's girl-bride." "It can never be, sir; it does not sound likely. Human beings never enjoy complete happiness in this world. I was not born for a different destiny to the rest of my species: to imagine such a lot befalling me is a fairy tale a day-dream."

"You need never be afraid of losing it again." Aunt Amy found it hard to make the pies that morning. She was enveloped in a deep sadness, a sadness which in some misunderstood way seemed inseparable from the idea of that lost friend of hers, the girl-bride whose marriage hour had never struck. It seemed to Aunt Amy that the girl had been waiting a very long time and was tired.

Then the world seemed to close darkly around her, and poor little Daisy, the unhappy girl-bride, fell back in the coach in a deadly swoon. "Poor little Daisy!" cried John Brooks, wiping away a suspicious moisture from his eyes with his rough, toil-hardened hand, "she takes it pretty hard now; but the time will come when she will thank me for it.

No woman's hands could have been tenderer than the calloused ones of this frontiersman. The boy was his life. For the girl-bride of John Beaudry had died to give this son birth. Beaudry sat by the dying fire and smoked. The hills had faded to black, shadowy outlines beneath a night of a million stars.

Suddenly she remembered Rex had left her she was never to look upon his face again. He had left her to the cold mercies of a cruel world. Poor little Daisy the unhappy, heart-broken girl-bride sat there wondering what else could happen to her. "God has shut me out from His mercy," she cried; "there is nothing for me to do but to die." "I am a desperate man, Daisy," pursued Stanwick, slowly.