near together; because of all the many things that each had for
to say. They seemed to get into an unwise condition of longing to know
matters that surely could not matter. When did each of them first feel
sure of being meant only for the other nobler one? At first sight, of
course, and with a perfect gift of seeing how much loftier each was
than the other; and what an extraordinary fact it was that in everything
imaginable they were quite alike, except in the palpable certainty
possessed by each of the betterness of the other. What an age it seemed
since first they met, positively without thinking, and in the very
middle of a skirmish, yet with a remarkable drawing out of perceptions
one anotherward! Did Mary feel this, when she acted so cleverly, and
led away those vile pursuers? and did Robin, when his breath came back,
discover why his heart was glowing in the rabbit-hole? Questions of such
depth can not be fathomed in a moment; and even to attempt to do any
justice to them, heads must be very long laid together. Not only so, but
also it is of prime necessity to make sure that every whisper goes into
the proper ear, and abides there only, and every subtlety of glance, and
every nicety of touch, gets warm with exclusive reciprocity. It is
not too much to say that in so sad a gladness the faculties of
self-preservation are weak, when they ought to be most active; therefore
it should surprise nobody (except those who are so far above all
surprise) to become aware that every word they said, and everything
(even doubly sacred) that they did, was well entered into, and
thoroughly enjoyed, by a liberal audience of family-minded men, who had
been through pretty scenes like this, and quietly enjoyed dry memory.

Cadman, Ellis, and Dick Hackerbody were in comfortable places of
retirement, just under the combing of the hedge; all waiting for a
whistle, yet at leisure to enjoy the whisper, the murmur, or even the
sigh, of a genuine piece of "sweet-hearting." Unjust as it may be, and
hard, and truly narrow, there does exist in the human mind, or at least
in the masculine half of it, a strong conviction that a man in love is a
man in a scrape, in a hole, in a pitfall, in a pitiful condition,
untrue for the moment to the brotherhood of man, and cast down among the
inferior vessels. And instead of being sorry for him, those who are all
right look down, and glory over him, with very ancient gibes. So these
three men, instead of bein