And in all the later years they had been the
green spot of verdure under life's dark skies--the undying bough into
which the spirit of the whole tree retreats from the ice of the world:
"_Bride of the Mistletoe!_"
Through the first problem of learning to weld her nature to his
wisely; through the perils of bearing children and the agony of seeing
some of them pass away; through the ambition of having him rise in his
profession and through the ideal of making his home an earthly
paradise; through loneliness when he was away and joy whenever he came
back,--upon her whole life had rested the wintry benediction of that
mystical phrase:
"_Bride of the Mistletoe!_"
* * * * *
She turned away now, starting once more downward toward the
evergreens. He was quickly at her side.
"What do you suppose Harold and Elizabeth are up to about this time?"
he asked, with a good-humored jerk of his head toward the distant
town.
"At least to something mischievous, whatever it is," she
replied. "They begged to be allowed to stay until the shop windows
were lighted; they have seen the shop windows two or three times
already this week: there is no great marvel for them now in shop
windows.
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