divine--not from
defective sympathy so much as from absorption in his self-created idea
of her--the very simple feelings which actually animated her. His
masculine pride was satisfied in that so eligible a maiden consented to
become his wife. His moral sense was satisfied also, since he had--as
he supposed--put temptation from him and chosen the better part. Very
certainly he was not violently in love. That he supposed to be a thing
of the past. But he was quietly happy. While ahead lay the mysterious
enchantments of marriage. Dickie's heart was very tender, just then.
Life had never turned on him a more gracious face.

Nevertheless, once or twice, a breath of distrust dimmed the bright
surface of his existing complacency. One day, for instance, he had
taken his _fiancee_ for a morning drive and brought her home to
luncheon. After that meal she should sit for a while with Lady Calmady
and then join him in the library down-stairs, for he had that which he
coveted to show her. But it appeared to him that she tarried unduly
with his mother, and he grew impatient waiting through the long minutes
of the summer afternoon. A barrel-organ droned slumberously from the
other side of the square, while to his ears, so long attuned to country
silences or the quick, intermittent music of nature, the ceaseless roar
of London became burdensome. Ever after, thinking of this first wooing
of his, he recalled--as slightly sinister--that ever-present murmur of
traffic,--bearing testimony, at it seemed later, to the many activities
in which he could play, after all, but so paltry and circumscribed a
part.

And, listening to that same murmur now, something of rebellion against
circumstance arose in Dickie for all that the present was very good.
For, as he considered, any lover other than himself would not sit
pinned to an armchair awaiting his mistress' coming, but, did she
delay, would go to seek her, claim her, and bear her merrily away. The
organ-grinder, meanwhile, cheered by a copper shower from some adjacent
balcony, turned the handle of his instrument more vigorously, letting
loose stirring valse-tune and march upon the sultry air. Such music
was, of necessity, somewhat comfortless hearing to Richard, debarred
alike from deeds of arms or joy of dancing. His impatience increased.
It was a little inconsiderate of his mother surely to detain Constance
for so long! But just then the sound of women's voices reached him
through the half-o