Thank God
for it."
So I went over the river, over the Long Bridge where I first met
Her, and from the arch of which I hailed the light in her window,
the beacon that had beckoned me all the years while two oceans
surged between us; under the wild-rose hedge where I had dreamed
of her as a boy, and presently I stood upon the broad stone steps
of her father's house, and rang the bell.
An old servant opened the door, and, with a grave nod of recognition,
showed me into the room to the left,--the very one where I had
taken leave of her six years before,--then went unasked to call
"Miss Elisabeth." It was New Year's Eve, and they were having a
card party in the parlor.
"Oh, it isn't--?" said she, with her heart in her mouth, pausing on
the threshold and looking appealingly at the maid. It was the same
who years before had told her how I kept vigil under her window.
"Yes! it is!" she said, mercilessly, "it's him," and she pushed
her in.
[Illustration: Bringing the Loved up Flowers]
I think it was I who spoke first.
"Do you remember when the ice broke on the big ditch and I had you
in my arms, so, lifting you over?"
"Was I heavy?" she asked, irrelevantly, and we both laughed.
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