like some warbling fountain.

Sir Charles, transfigured by love, answered her in kind--three months
ago he could not--and they compared pretty little plans of wedded life,
and had small differences, and ended by agreeing.

Complete and prompt accord upon two points: first, they would not have
a single quarrel, like other people; their love should never lose its
delicate bloom; second, they would grow old together, and die the same
day--the same minute if possible; if not, they must be content with the
same day, but, on that, inexorable.

But soon after this came a skirmish. Each wanted to obey t'other.

Sir Charles argued that Bella was better than he, and therefore more
fit to conduct the pair.

Bella, who thought him divinely good, pounced on this reason furiously.
He defended it. He admitted, with exemplary candor, that he was good
now--"awfully good." But he assured her that he had been anything but
good until he knew her; now she had been always good; therefore, he
argued, as his goodness came originally from her, for her to obey him
would be a little too much like the moon commanding the sun.

"That is too ingenious for me, Charles," said Bella. "And, for shame!
Nobody was ever so good as you are. I look up to you and--Now I could
stop your mouth in a minute. I have only to remind you that I shall
swear at the altar to obey you, and you will not swear to obey me. But
I will not crush you under the Prayer-book--no, dearest; but, indeed,
to obey is a want of my nature, and I marry you to supply that want: