Some have called this "destiny," but it has a better name.
"Jenny," said Mark, after they were seated--he still retained her hand in his, and felt it tremble--"tell me something about my mother.

It will do me good to hear of her from your lips." The girl tried to make some answer, but found no utterance.

Her lips trembled so that she could not speak.

But she grew more composed after a time, and then in reply to many questions of Mark, related incident after incident, in which his mother's goodness of character stood prominent.

The young man listened intently, sometimes with his eyes upon the ground, and sometimes gazing admiringly into the sweet face of the young speaker.
Time passed more rapidly than either Mark or Jenny imagined.