As we sat afterwards upon the piazza with our cigars, inhaling the odor of the apple blossoms, and yielding ourselves, according to our age, to the influence of the mild night, Margaret was in the high spirits which accompany the expectation of bliss, without the sobering effect of its responsibility. Love itself is very serious, but the overture is full of freakish gayety. And it was all gayety that night. We all constituted ourselves a guard of honor to Miss Forsythe and Margaret when they went to their cottage, and there was a merry leave-taking in the moonlight. To be sure, Margaret walked with Henderson, and they lagged a little behind, but I had no reason to suppose that they were speaking of the stars, or that they raised the ordinary question of their being inhabited. I doubt if they saw the stars at all. How one remembers little trifles, that recur like the gay bird notes of the opening scenes that are repeated in the tragedy of the opera! I can see Margaret now, on some bantering pretext, running back, after we had said good-night, to give Henderson the blush-rose she had worn in her hair. How charming the girl was in this freakish action! “Do you think he is good enough for her?” asked my wife, when we were alone. “Who is good enough for whom?” I said, a yawn revealing my want of sentiment. “Don't be stupid. You are not so blind as you pretend.” “Well, if I am not so blind as I pretend, though I did not pretend to be blind, I suppose that is mainly her concern.” “But I wish she had cared for Lyon.” “Perhaps Lyon did not care for her,” I suggested. “You never see anything. Lyon was a noble fellow.” “I didn't deny that. But how was I to know about Lyon, my dear? I never heard you say that you were glad he wasn't your husband.” “Don't be silly. I think Henderson has very serious intentions.” “I hope he isn't frivolous,” I said. “Well, you are. It isn't a joking matter--and you pretend to be so fond of Margaret!” “So that is another thing I pretend? What do you want me to do? Which one do you want me to make my enemy by telling him or her that the other isn't good enough?” “I don't want you to do anything, except to be reasonable, and sympathize.” “Oh, I sympathize all round. I assure you I've no doubt you are quite right.” And in this way I crawled out of the discussion, as usual.