on, and just jogged on together, somehow."

We both laughed and she went on.

"If I thought I should be as happy as you are, I should be tempted to
be married myself."

"Ah, I thought your time would come!" I cried.

"Don't ask me any questions," she said, her pretty face growing
prettier with a bright; warm glow. "Give me advice instead; for
instance, tell me how I can be sure that if I love a man I shall go
on loving him through all the wear and tear of married life and how
can I be sure he can and will go on loving me?"

"Well, then, setting aside the fact that you are both lovable and
loving, I will say this: Happiness, in other words love, in married
life is not a mere accident. When the union has been formed, as most
Christian unions are, by God Himself, it is His intention and His
will that it shall prove the unspeakable joy of both husband and
wife, and become more and more so from year to year. But we are
imperfect creatures, wayward and foolish as little children, horribly
unreasonable, selfish and willful. We are not capable of enduring the
shock of finding at every turn that our idol is made of clay, and
that it is prone to tumble off its pedestal and lie in the dust, till
we pick it up and set it in its place again. I was struck with
Ernest's asking in the very first prayer he offered in my presence,
after our marriage, that God would help us love each other. I felt
that love was the very foundation on which I was built, and that
there was no danger that I should ever fall short in giving to my