"Oh, Julia! did you go, yourself?"
"Yes."
"With the love of such a woman, what may not a man do?" cried Bart,
with enthusiasm. "Julia, I suspect more--that I owe all and everything
to you."
"You saved my life, Arthur, and will you not take little things from
me?"
"I owe you for all the love and happiness of all my future, Julia, and
for the stimulus that has made me work these three years. You love
me; and love takes from love, and gives all it can and has, and is
content."
"Bless you, Arthur!" and affecting to notice the passage of the sun
towards the meridian--she turned to him a little anxiously--"What time
is it, Arthur?"--as if she cared! He told her, and she extended her
hand and took the watch, and toyed with it a moment; "it is a pretty
watch, open it, please," which he did. Looking at it intently, with
heightened color, she pointed with the rosy tip of a finger, to an
almost hidden inscription, which Bart had never seen before, and which
he saw were letters spelling "Julia." He started up amazed, and for
the moment trembled.
"Oh, Julia! all that I have and am, the food I have eaten, the clothes
I wear, all came from you! Old Windsor is a fraud--an instrument--and
I have carried your blessed name these long months, not knowing it."
"Arthur, 'you love me, and love takes from love. It gives all it has
and can, and is content.' It is a blessed gospel, Arthur. Think how
much I owe you--gladly owe you;--the obligation was not a burthen; but
you would not even let me express my gratitude.
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