Always! She did not know how vast and profound that word was on her lips. It went to my heart. Weeks, months, seasons, years, youth, strength, many changes had passed by unnoted, unobserved; hemisphere had been changed for hemisphere, freedom for slavery, the palm-tree hut for the bohea, a life of liberty for a life of labour—everything had changed; but one thing had remained stedfast, one thing had remained the same—her love—her fidelity! She had always had him, the husband whom she loved—he had always had her. Of that which was variable and evanescent she knew not, made no account—she knew merely of time as regarded that which was eternal. She had had her husband always; she should have him always. That was evidently written in her calm countenance and in her calm voice. It could not be otherwise.
“Love requires to be sustained by duty!” said Geijer to me, on one occasion when he spoke of marriage. So it does; but it is beautiful to see that the natural marriage between two kindred souls can remain firm and strong merely through the law of love, amid the wild license of the bohea. And that, in the case of two black people, two of the wild offspring of the desert!
Poets and philosophers have spoken of souls predestined for each other. Here I found two such. They had always belonged to each other. In the profound consciousness of God they had belonged to each other, and would belong to each other through all time—that is in—eternity.
The man entered whilst I was still in the room. He seemed to be about the same age as the woman, and had the same good-hearted expression; but there was in his smile a sort of imprisoned sunshine, a cheerful beam of light which, lit up from the heart itself, seemed as if it would gladly have free diffusion. I have often observed this imprisoned beam of light in the countenances of these
