cannot draw the rein and tighten the girth."
There was a charming sparkle in his blue eyes as he spoke. I gave him my hand, and we parted. As we walked away together, Horatio asked how I liked him.
"He is in earnest, and that is everything. But mark me, he is not the man for Susan."
"Your jealousy!" said Horatio.
"Not a bit! I see a discrepancy."
"Where?"
"In my mind's eye, Horatio."
I concluded that silence was discretion, and refused to answer more questions. Horatio looked at his watch.
"We have just time to see Miss Kellerton in the last act of 'The Stranger.' She is great! You should see her, when she turns and embraces the children; it’s a scene of overwhelming pathos! Come!"
"With Pendlam's printed sermon in your pocket?"
Horatio laughed. "We will read it during the dance!"
But I declined; and he went alone into the theatre.
Not long after, I received a certain wedding card, and, in consequence, made a certain call. Susan was all blushes and smiles at sight of me; but I was cool and circumspect.
"We are friends, are we not?" I said. "We once thought we were more than that; but we became older and wiser. We agreed to disagree, very properly. It did not break our hearts; and that shows that it is better as it is."
"Perhaps," murmured Susan.
"Let us be quite frank with each other; that is the best way, Susan. We are good friends?"
"O, yes!" said Susan.
"Thank you, dear Susan,—if I may still call you so, in the sense of friendship. I know your husband, and love him. I congratulate you on having so noble a companion."
Susan sighed, and concealed a tear. Just then Pendlam entered. He seemed abstracted, and took a quick turn across the room; then gave me a surprised look, a pleased smile, and a cordial grasp of the hand. The next hour I was oblivious of all external things, in the delightful excitement of our conversation. I even forgot Susan. Poor Susan! the trouble was, she was not intellectual; not at all imaginative; but a very plain, matter-of-fact person, with deep affections, and paramount instincts. During that memorable hour, she spoke not one word. When at length I observed her consciously, she was gazing at us with a look of weariness and vacancy.
"Is it not so?" cried Pendlam.
He appealed to her. She smiled sweetly, and said with simplicity that she scarcely understood any thing that had been said.
I could see that Pendlam was a little shocked. From clear, joyous heights of poetic discourse, we looked down, and saw how far off below was her beingless mind. To the vision we then enjoyed, there was something thick and earthy in her expression. It was the first time Pendlam had observed it; I had seen it before. And even as before, I looked back, with wonder at myself, to the earlier period when I deemed her beauty peerless.
Both Pendlam and I were chilled. The fine tension of the spiritual chords relaxed, and gave forth heavier music. Susan failing to ascend to us, we came down to her. She now made haste to atone for her long silence by talking freely of the pretty new church, and the people she saw out Sunday; and she seemed proud and happy when she brought out her wedding gifts, and I praised them.
It was several weeks before I again saw Pendlam. I went with Horatio to hear him preach. The sermon surprised me. Many of the thoughts which I had advanced in our private conversations, and which he had opposed, were reproduced, but very slightly modified, in his discourse.
"Pendlam is enlarging," whispered
