mean that hour in yesterday morning when I sat listening to Esther Glenn, and wondering whether it could be possible that she loved me; whether I might not be deceiving myself in dreaming that she bestowed anything more upon me than she gave other intimate, congenial friends. I knew I ought to have gone long before—that it was necessary I should be at my office at that moment—and I rose to leave. As I did so there flashed upon me, like an inspiration, a resolution to solve my doubt then and there. I had almost made a vow that, if I ever asked a woman for her love, it should be under the eternal stars, or where the blue, sunlit heavens bent over us with their assurance of infinite rest and peace. But now a fear suddenly possessed me that, for the shadow of a sentiment, I might he letting the reality of my life's happiness slip from my grasp.
"The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by storm." Perhaps it is only by a certain divine rashness that its gifts, also, are to be won. Besides, if I were to receive my death-blow, as well now as at any other time. Then I put out my hand. Thinking I meant to bid her good-by, she naturally extended hers. "Stop," I said, and I wondered if my voice sounded as strangely in her ears as in my own, "don't give me your hand until you know what I shall take it to mean. Unless it is to accept my whole life and love, you need not raise it; unless your heart goes with it, and I am to hold both forever, I must not touch it." The passion at my heart reached my voice, and suddenly broke it, and I silently waited my sentence. For a moment she stood before me faint and faltering. Then her hand moved slightly toward me—and I took more than the hand.
There was scarcely anything said in the moments which followed. There was no need of speech, and, indeed, neither of us was quite capable of it. Presently, I was obliged to leave; but the face I raised, for one long look before going, was rosy and alight not only with love but with hope, and I saw that the woman with a Past had become a woman with a Future.
December 31st.—I have treated this book as better friends are sometimes served; that is, thrown it aside as soon as I no longer needed it. There is now small need of its imperfect relief and companionship, when every need of my nature is supplied, when my innermost thoughts and feelings are read and answered before they are spoken. Thinking of what my life now is, there comes to me but one expression, that which alone rises to my lips in all great, unutterable joys. Esther, my wife, has come to my side, and is watching me as I write. I turn and look for a moment in her face, and I see that it is from her heart as from the depths of my own that these two words ascend, with which I finish this record as I began it—
Thank God!
