What a drive it was! Of all seasons, in all climes, give me an English spring.

The hedges were covered with white and pink hawthorn; the apple trees were all in bloom; the air was redolent of mariets.

The white lambs were in the meadows; the leaves were springing on the trees; the birds singing.
"It is like a new life, John," said the happy young fellow by my side; then, quite unable to keep his thoughts or his words long away from her, he continued: "Frances will be so pleased to see you; we have talked of nothing else for a week." "I am afraid that she will be disappointed when she sees me, Lance." "No, indeed," he replied, heartily.

"You look better than you did when you went to America, John--you look younger, less haggard, less worn.
Perhaps you have found some comfort ?" "Not of the kind you mean, Lance," I answered, "and I never shall." "Ah," he said, musingly, "what mischief one bad woman can make! And she was a bad woman, this false love of yours, John." "If she had been a good one, she would have been true," I replied.
"I think," said Lance, musingly, "that in all this world there is nothing so horrible as a bad--a really bad or wicked woman! They seem to me much worse than men, just as a good woman is better than a man could ever be--is little less than an angel.
"Do you know," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "I did not understand how good a woman could be! My wife, Frances, is quite an angel.

When I see her in the morning, her fair face so fresh and pure, kneeling down to say her prayers, I feel quite unworthy of her; when I see the rapt, earnest expression of her face, as we sit side by side in church, I long to be like her! She is one of the gentlest and sweetest of women; there is no one like her!" "I am heartily glad that you are so happy, my dearest Lance," I said.
He continued: "I know that my talking does not bore you; you are too true a friend; it eases my heart, for it is always full of her.