e with your eyes, or look at
things from your stand-point--would make it harder for you to come to me
in your troubles; but indeed, dear, if you believe me, I will _try_,
and, as we are to spend our lives together, I think it would be better,
would not it?"

He speaks with a deprecating humility, an almost imploring gentleness,
but I am so thoroughly upset by the astounding change that has come over
the tone of his talk--by the clouds that have suddenly darkened the
morning sunshine of my horizon--that I cannot answer him in the same
tone.

"Perhaps we shall not have to spend all our lives together!" I say,
with a harsh laugh. "Cheer up! One of us may _die_! who knows?"

After that we neither of us say any thing till we reach the house.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

"Yea, by God's rood, I trusted you too well!"

In the hall we part without a word, and I, spiritlessly, mount the
staircase alone. How I flew down it this morning, three steps at a time,
and had some ado to hinder myself from sliding down the banisters, as we
have all often, with dangerous joy, done at home! Now I crawl up, like
some sickly old person. When I reach my bedroom, I throw myself into the
first chair, and lie in it--

"... quiet as any water-sodden log
Stayed in the wandering warble of a brook."

I do not attempt to take off my hat and jacket. Of what use is it to
take them off more than to leave them on, or to leave them on more than
to take them off? Of what use is _any thing_, pray? What a weary round
life is! what a silly circle of unfortunate repetitions! eating only to
be hungry again; waking only to sleep; sleeping only to wake!

At first I am too inert even to think, even to lift my hand to protect
my cheek from Vick's muddy paws, who, annoyed at my evident inattention
to her presence, is sitting on my lap, making little impatient
_clawings_ at my defenseless countenance. But gradually on the river of
recollection all the incidents of the morning flow through my mind. In
more startling relief than ever, the astounding change in Roger, wrought
by those ill-starred two hours, stands out. Is it possible that I may
have been attributing it to a wrong cause? Doubtless, the first
interview with the woman he had loved, and who had thrown him over
(by-the-by, how forgiving men are!)--yes, the first, probably, since
they had stood in the relation of betrothed people to each other--must
have been full of pain. Doubtless, the co