sisters welcomed her by turns to theirs. Jennie was no longer young. Her continued, though patient toil was telling upon her. A thread or two of gray appeared in her hair, and the girlish freckles faded out, while the pallor of ill health succeeded them.. But how much she accomplished by her affectionate, steady perseverance. The young nephews and nieces, in coming years, shall rear a monument to the memory of that tender eare.
"O Jennie, can this be you?"
"O Myra, is this you?"
These were the joyful, yet tearful greetings of the two sisters. Philip had written that Myra was sick, and alone and unprotected the timid little lady had travelled day and night the weary hundreds of miles, to bring unexpected joy to the invalid, and to herself as well. She wrote me from the West:
"To sit by Myra's bedside, to care for her once more, to look into her dear eyes is more bliss than I ever hoped."
Under the gentle touch of this best of nurses, Myra recovered; and Jennie, remaining awhile, was more at leisure to lavish some of her best feelings upon new friends, and among others, upon an unworthy object. He appeared well, and Jennie, never suspicious, confided in him till he proved, first fickle, then false. It was a cruel blow, but suffering was nothing new to Jennie. It hurt just the same, but she could bear it.
There came a sad day when Myra suddenly sickened and died. No love of a fond husband, devoted sister, or helpless, clinging infants, could hold her back; and then Jennie thought those beautiful babies of her lost Myra's would be hers to cherish in all the future years. Surely Philip would love her now, and make his home hers for their sakes, since nobody could be to Myra's children like Myra's sister.
"If your health were only better no one else should be my wife," the perplexed Philip often said. " What shall I do, Jennie?"
"I cannot tell," was the invariable reply. "Do just as you think our Myra would have you do. I only know that love would make me strong again, to live and labor for my loved ones."
But Philip chose for a wife a woman already well, and Jennie laid her little darlings in their new mother's arms, with sobs and kisses, and went her way. She thought once she could be happy with Myra alone; could she be happy alone without her? Certainly. Her capacity for happiness had grown with that which gives it exercise. Though she grieved, she could still love, and she who can do that is blessed. The world is full of objects of love; the little children, the old, the affleted, the ignorant, the sinful; and Jennie found them out. "Love made her strong again," as she told Philip. Although not always reciprocated to the extent of her large demands, it was not lost. "Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted. If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refreshment."
Jennie proved the truth of that. If you should hear her soft, merry laugh, and see the peaceful look on her beautiful face — yes, Jennie is beautiful now—you would know as I do, that all is calm and joyful within.
But about "Jennie's wedding cake." you thought [the story was going to be about that? Well, it is all about it. Don't you see how it was in process of making through all the years? All the hard, bitter things, all the disappointments and losses that went to make up the ingredients of the distasteful loaf were sweetened by the joy of unselfish love and seasoned with the salt of constant goodness; and Jennie's is of all wedding cakes the most delicious.
And what will I do with the doctrine that a person can never truly love but once? I do not know. I do not pretend to be wise. I only know that Jennie has a whole, full k fresh heart to give "her Paul."
Jennie's Paul is just the man for her. He is worthy of her, and needs no other description. In a long and intimate acquaintance under a variety of circumstances, the foundation was laid for a happy marriage. "The happiest day of my life," she called her engagement day; what she named her recent wedding day
