hungry as if she thought I might have meant to leave her there till morning in that dismal place.  I offered her my apologies, but she made even a shorter turn than usual when I had mounted, and we scurried off down the road, spattering ourselves as we went.  I hope the ghosts who live in the parsonage watched me with friendly eyes, and I looked back myself, to see a thin blue whiff of smoke still coming up from the great chimney.  I wondered who it was that had made the first fire there,—­but I think I shall have made the last.

Tom’s Husband

I shall not dwell long upon the circumstances that led to the marriage of my hero and heroine; though their courtship was, to them, the only one that has ever noticeably approached the ideal, it had many aspects in which it was entirely commonplace in other people’s eyes.  While the world in general smiles at lovers with kindly approval and sympathy, it refuses to be aware of the unprecedented delight which is amazing to the lovers themselves.

But, as has been true in many other cases, when they were at last married, the most ideal of situations was found to have been changed to the most practical.  Instead of having shared their original duties, and, as school-boys would say, going halves, they discovered that the cares of life had been doubled.  This led to some distressing moments for both our friends; they understood suddenly that instead of dwelling in heaven they were still upon earth, and had made themselves slaves to new laws and limitations.  Instead of being freer and happier than ever before, they had assumed new responsibilities; they had established a new household, and must fulfill in some way or another the obligations of it.  They looked back with affection to their engagement; they had been longing to have each other to themselves, apart from the world, but it seemed that they never felt so keenly that they were still units in modern society.  Since Adam and Eve were in Paradise, before the devil joined them, nobody has had a chance to imitate that unlucky couple.  In some respects they told the truth when, twenty times a day, they said that life had never been so pleasant before; but there were mental reservations on either side which might have subjected them to the accusation of lying.  Somehow, there was a little feeling of disappointment, and they caught themselves wondering—­though they would have died sooner than confess it—­whether they were quite so happy as they had expected.  The truth was, they were much happier than people usually are, for they had an uncommon capacity for enjoyment.  For a little while they were like a sail-boat that is beating and has to drift a few minutes before it can catch the wind and start off on the other tack.  And they had the same feeling, too, that any one is likely to have who has been long pursuing some object of his ambition or desire.  Whether it is a coin, or a picture, or a stray volume of some old edition of Shakespeare, or whether it is an office under government or a lover, when fairly in one’s grasp there is a loss of the eagerness that was felt in pursuit.  Satisfaction, even after one has dined well, is not so interesting and eager a feeling as hunger.