she had the absurd consciousness that his mind pressed upon
hers. There had been so many years and so much wonder--and no one came.
It had been foolish indeed. And then came a year of wondering at the
other. The old wonder concerning this one, excited by a certain fashion
of rendering his head in unison with his shoulders--as might the statue
of Perfect Beauty turn upon its pedestal--with its baser residue of
suspicion, had been happily allayed by a closer acquaintance with Allan.
One must learn, it seemed, to distrust those lightning-strokes of
prejudice that flash but once at the first contact between human clouds.

Yet in the last year there had come another wonder that excited a
suspicion whose troubling-power was absurdly out of all true proportion.

It was in the matter of seeing things--that is, funny things.

Doubtless she had told him a few things more or less funny that had
seemed to move him to doubt or perplexity, or to mere seriousness; but,
indeed, they had seemed less funny to her after that. For example, she
had told Aunt Bell the anecdote of the British lady of title who says to
her curate, concerning a worthy relative by marriage lately passed away,
toward whom she has felt kindly despite his inferior station: "Of course
I _couldn't_ know him here--but we shall meet in heaven." Aunt Bell had
been edified by this, remarking earnestly that such differences would
indeed be wiped out in heaven. Yet when Nancy went to Allan in a certain
bubbling condition over the anecdote itself and Aunt Bell's comment
thereon, he made her repeat it slowly, after the first hurried telling,
and had laughed but awkwardly with her, rather as if it were expected of
him--with an eye vacant of all but wonder--like a traveller not sure he
had done right to take the left-hand turn at the last cross-roads.

Again, the bishop who ordained him had, in a relaxed and social moment
after the ceremony, related that little classic of Bishop Meade, who,
during the fight over a certain disestablishment measure, was asked by a
lobbyist how he would vote. The dignified prelate had replied that he
would vote for the bill, for he held that every man should have the
right to choose his own way to heaven. None the less, he would continue
to be certain that a gentleman would always take the Episcopal way. To
Nancy Allan retold this, adding,

"You know, I'm going to use it in a sermon some time."

"Yes--it's very funny," she answered, a little