Better than sentiment, laughter opens the breast to love; opens the whole breast to his full quiver, instead of a corner here and there for a solitary arrow.

Hail the occasion propitious, O British young! and laugh and treat love as an honest God, and dabble not with the sentimental rouge.

These two laughed, and the souls of each cried out to other, "It is I it is I." They laughed and forgot the cause of their laughter, and the sun dried his light river clothing, and they strolled toward the blackbird's copse, and stood near a stile in sight of the foam of the weir and the many-coloured rings of eddies streaming forth from it.
Richard's boat, meanwhile, had contrived to shoot the weir, and was swinging, bottom upward, broadside with the current down the rapid backwater.
"Will you let it go ?" said the damsel, eying it curiously.
"It can't be stopped," he replied, and could have added: "What do I care for it now!" His old life was whirled away with it, dead, drowned.

His new life was with her, alive, divine.
She flapped low the brim of her hat.

"You must really not come any farther," she softly said.
"And will you go, and not tell me who you are ?" he asked, growing bold as the fears of losing her came across him.