hose who could see it) than a merely
handsome man, for the curves of his mouth had mastery in them, and his
eyes were full of grave sweetness. Emily was always delighted with the
somewhat unusual meeting in him of personal majesty, with the
good-humoured easy _bonhomie_ which had caused his late discomfiture.
She half turned, and looked up.

"How charming she is!" he thought, as he looked down; "there will be
grace and beauty into the bargain!" and he proceeded, in pursuit of what
he considered sincere and gentlemanlike, to venture on the dangerous
ground again, not being aware how it quaked under him.

The casual mention of some acquaintance who had lately married gave him
the chance that he thought he wanted. He would be happy enough--people
might in general be happy enough, he hinted, glancing from the
particular instance to lay down a general proposition--"if they did not
expect too much--if they were less romantic; for himself, he had not the
presumption to expect more than a sincere liking--a cordial
approval--such as he himself could entertain. It was the only feeling he
had ever inspired, or----"

No, he did not say felt.

But he presently alluded to his late wife, and then reverting to his
former speech, said, "And yet I was happy with her! I consider that I
was fortunate."

"Moderate," thought Emily; "but as much as it is possible for him to
say."

"And," he continued, "she has laid me under obligations that make it
impossible for me ever to forget her. I feel the blessing of having our
children about me. And--and also--what I owe to her on their account--I
never spend a day without thinking of her."

"Poor Janie!" thought Emily, very much touched, "she did not deserve
this tribute. How coldly I have often heard her talk of him!"

And then, not without a certain grave sweetness of manner that made her
heart ache, alike with tender shame to think how little her dead
husband had ever been accounted of, compared with this now possible
future one, and with such jealousy as one may feel of a dead wife who
would have cared as little for long remembrance as she had done for
living affection, Emily listened, while he managed quite naturally, and
by the slightest hints, to bring her also in--her past lot and opinions.
She felt, rather than heard, the intention; "and he could not presume to
say," he went on, "he was not sure whether a man might hope for a second
marriage, which could have all the advantages of