hree years of hermitage. "The crackling of thorns under a pot" it
seemed to her--of big gilded thorns under a big gilded pot. The pot
bubbled merrily, boiling over with iridescent froth; its steam was
heady, causing those who tended it to dance blithely like
self-hypnotised Arabs about a brazier. Sophy enjoyed gorgeous foolery as
much as any other, when she was in the mood. But now she was far from
the mood. It was as if Endymion had insisted on presenting Selene at the
court of Elis with "excursions and alarums," and gaudy pageants--as if
he could not feel his goddess wholly his until the curious eyes of the
courtiers approved his choice. For she had found out that it was by his
desire that his mother had so insisted on this visit. Mrs. Loring had
been quite unconscious of betraying motives when she said: "I wouldn't
urge you, my dear, but Morry so wishes it. He thinks you've been too
long in this dear, dreamy old place. Besides," she had added, smiling,
"he naturally wishes the world to see his Faery Queen...."

Sophy had mentioned this to Loring.

"Don't let's go, dear.... I'm sure your mother will understand. And I
really hate the idea," she had said to him.

But Loring had replied:

"You don't know my mother yet, Beautiful. She would feel awfully cut up
if we didn't go to her after we came back. Don't you see?-- It would
look queer to others, too...."

Sophy had yielded in the end. Yet she smiled to herself, a little
wistfully, reflecting on the meaning of the name Endymion, "a being that
gently comes over one." Here she was--to her mind the most pitiable of
trophy-ikons--a bride displayed in new attire, new jewels and new love,
to the eyes of the appraising world.

In all the conviviality poured over him as bridegroom by laughing
friends, Morris was very careful not to go too far that summer. The
friends grinned slyly--"Morry's on the water-wagon of love," the word
went round. Some wag said that the fire-water of matrimony went flat in
the second year--and "Mrs. Morry" might find her consort drinking from
other stills. This would prove a shock.

"Oh, she won't mind," a woman had said easily. "Morry's so perfectly
delightful when he's taken a bit too much. He's _so_ amusing."

But on the first occasion of this kind Sophy had minded very much
indeed. It did not happen until towards the middle of their first winter
in New York. They had given a dinner and some people had stayed on
afterwards until one o'cloc