_Lake Erie._

THE MAIDEN (rising from her knees).

My marriage-morning! Lord, give me thy grace For the new duties of a wedded life. The letters have I burned; And now--the picture. Oh, dear boyish face, One look--the last! Yet had I been thy wife, Willie, I had been true to thee--returned All thy affection to the full. She said Love was “a sacrifice.” It is; as--thus: Get thee behind me, Past! [Burns the picture. --Which one of us Was truest? But why ask? She wronged the dead With many lovers--nay, her very dress Showed not one trace of sorrow. --I confess I never thought her fair, although the throng Do call her so, they tell me. --Long, how long I wore the heavy crape that checked my breath, And went about as one who sorroweth; And I did sorrow! Slow months passed, and I Gave every thought to tearful memory; My grief grew selfish. Then--he brought his suit-- My mother wept and prayed. What right had I To crush two lives? If by the sacrifice I make them happy, is it not large price For my poor, broken years? How earnestly I strove to do the right! The patient fruit Of years of prayer came to my aid, and now I stand in bridal white. Lord, hear my vow: Oh, may I make him happy! Not a thought Of any other love shall mar the troth I give for this life. Evils, troubles, naught But death, shall part us. Thus the marriage-oath. But after--then--O Willie!

THE MOTHER (entering).

Art thou dressed? That’s well, dear one. Never has mother blessed A child more dutiful, more good. Come, love, The bridegroom waits.

THE END.

* * * * *

TWO WOMEN:

A POEM.

BY CONSTANCE FENIMORE WOOLSON.