She had blushed unseen, and had wasted divine sweets upon a more than desert air.

But when Beverley came near her, at first carelessly droning his masculine monotonies, as the wandering bee to the lonely and lovely rose, and presently striking her soul as with the wings of Love, there fell a change into her heart of hearts, and lo! her haunting and elusive dreams began to condense and take on forms that startled her with their wonderful splendor and beauty.

These she saw all the time, sleeping or waking; they made bright summer of the frozen stream and snapping gale, the snowdrifts and the sleet.

In her brave young heart, swelled the ineffable song--the music never yet caught by syrinx or flute or violin, the words no tongue can speak.
Ah, here may be the secret of that vigorous, brave, sweet life of our pioneer maids, wives, and mothers.

It was love that gave those tender hearts the iron strength and heroic persistence at which the world must forever wonder.