es, to a third, where he dared, on her
dress; for good-natured Tom was profuse of compliments, not without a
degree and kind of honesty in them; now singing one of his own songs to
the accompaniment of some gracious goddess, now accompanying the same
or some other gracious goddess as she sang--for Tom could do that well
enough for people without a conscience in their music; now in the
corner of a conservatory, now in a cozy little third room behind a back
drawing-room, talking nonsense with some lady foolish enough to be
amused with his folly. Tom meant no harm and did not do much--was only
a human butterfly, amusing himself with other creatures of a day, who
have no notion that death can not kill them, or they might perhaps be
more miserable than they are. They think, if they think at all, that it
is life, strong in them, that makes them forget death; whereas, in
truth, it is death, strong in them, that makes them forget life. Like a
hummingbird, all sparkle and flash, Tom flitted through the tropical
delights of such society as his "uncommon good luck" had gained him
admission to, forming many an evanescent friendship, and taking many a
graceful liberty for which his pleasant looks, confident manners, and
free carriage were his indemnity--for Tom seemed to have been born to
show what a nice sort of a person a fool, well put together, may
be--with his high-bred air, and his ready replies, for he had also a
little of that social element, once highly valued, now less
countenanced, and rare--I mean wit.

He had, indeed, plenty of all sorts of brains; but no amount of talent
could reveal to him the reason or the meaning of the fact that wedded
life was less interesting than courtship; for the former, the reason
lay in himself, and of himself proper he knew, as I have said, next to
nothing; while the latter, the meaning of the fact, is profound as
eternity. He had no notion that, when he married, his life was thereby,
in a lofty and blessed sense, forfeit; that, to save his wife's life,
he must yield his own, she doing the same for him--for God himself can
save no other way. But the notion of any saving, or the need of it, was
far from Tom; nor had Letty, for her part, any thought of it either,
except from the tyranny of her aunt. Not the less, in truth, did they
both want saving--very much saving--before life could be to either of
them a good thing. It is only its inborn possibility of and divine
tendency toward blossoming