"I fear you must think me very insensible, Frederick: I know it is the custom for ladies to cry on these occasions, but I couldn't squeeze a tear for my life."
He only answered with a kiss, and pressed her still closer to his bosom.
"But what is this?" he murmured. "Why, Esther, you're crying now!"
"Oh, it's nothing—it's only too much happiness—and the wish," sobbed she, "that our dear Helen were as happy as ourselves."
"Bless you for that wish!" I inwardly responded as the carriage rolled away—"and Heaven grant it be not wholly vain!"
I thought a cloud had suddenly darkened her husband's face as she spoke. What did he think? Could he grudge such happiness to his dear sister and his friend as he now felt himself? At such a moment it was impossible. The contrast between her fate and his must darken his bliss for a time. Perhaps too he thought of me: perhaps he regretted the part
