other, as all things in heaven and earth spoke in tempest or in gloom
around them, and coined their sorrows into endearment, and their looks
into smiles, and strove each from the depth of despair to pluck hope
and comfort for the other.

This, it is true, was more striking and constant in her than in
Glendower; for in love, man, be he ever so generous, is always
outdone. Yet even when in moments of extreme passion and conflict the
strife broke from his breast into words, never once was his discontent
vented upon her, nor his reproaches lavished on any but fortune or
himself, nor his murmurs mingled with a single breath wounding to her
tenderness or detracting from his love.

He threw open the door; the wretched light cast its sickly beams over,
the squalid walls, foul with green damps, and the miserable yet clean
bed, and the fireless hearth, and the empty board, and the pale cheek
of the wife, as she rose and flung her arms round his neck, and
murmured out her joy and welcome. "There," said he, as he extricated
himself from her, and flung the money upon the table, "there, love,
pine no more, feed yourself and our daughter, and then let us sleep
and be happy in our dreams."

A writer, one of the most gifted of the present day, has told the
narrator of this history that no interest of a high nature can be
given to extreme poverty. I know not if this be true yet if I mistake
not our human feelings, there is nothing so exalted, or so divine, as
a great and brave spirit working out its end through every earthly
obstacle and evil; watching through the utter darkness, and steadily
defying the phantoms which crowd around it; wrestling with the mighty
allurements, and rejecting the fearful voice of that WANT which is the