.
It is the individual, not the topic, that makes the conversation; if a
man can talk well, graveyards are as good a subject as the last novel,
and he will make tombstones more attractive than scandal.

No one could have told from Claudius's appearance or conversation that
night that there was anything in the world to cloud his happiness. He
talked to the woman he loved with a serene contempt for everything else
in the world--a contempt, too, which was not assumed. He was perfectly
happy for the nonce, and doubly so in that such a happy termination to a
very long day was wholly unexpected. He had thought that he should find
the party gone from New York on his return from Greenwood, and this bit
of good luck seemed to have fallen to him out of a clear sky. Margaret
was glad to see him too; she was just now in that intermediate frame of
mind during which a woman only reasons about a man in his absence. The
moment he appears, the electric circuit is closed and the quiescent
state ceases. She was at the point when his coming made a difference
that she could feel; when she heard his step her blood beat faster, and
she could feel herself turning a shade paler. Then the heavy lids would
droop a little to hide what was in her dark eyes, and there were many
voices in her ear, as though the very air cried _gloria_, while her
heart answered _in excelsis_. But when he was come the gentle tale
seemed carried on, as from the hour of his last going; and while he
stayed life seemed one long day.

She had struggled hard, but in her deepest thoughts she had foreseen the
termination. It is the instinct of good women to fight against love--he
comes in such a questionable shape. A good woman sees a difference
between being in love and loving--well knowing that there is passion
without love, but no love without passion. She feels bound in faith to
set up a tribunal in her heart, whereby to judge between the two; but
very often judge and jury and prisoner at the bar join hands, and swear
eternal friendship on the spot. Margaret had feared lest this Northern
wooer, with his mighty strength and his bold eyes, should lead her
feelings whither her heart would not. Sooner than suffer that, she would
die. And yet there is a whole unspoken prophecy of love in every human
soul, and his witness is true.

All this evening they sat side by side, welding their bonds. Each had a
secret care, but each forgot it utterly. Claudius would not have deigned
t