Section 4. So behold them, the next morning, emerging from the little shop of the violin-dealer, and seeking for some one to fasten them in the holy bonds of matrimony! They were walking down a great avenue, and there were many churches--but they were all rich churches. “I never thought about it before,” said Thyrsis. “But I wonder if there are any poor churches in the city!” They stopped in front of one brown-stone structure that looked a trifle less elaborate. “It says Presbyterian,” said Corydon, reading the sign. “I wonder how they do it.” “I don’t know,” said he. “But he’d want a lot of money, I’m sure.” “But mightn’t he have a curate, or something?” “Goose,” laughed Thyrsis, “there are no Presbyterian curates!” “Well, you know what I mean,” she said--“an assistant, or an apprentice, or something.” “I don’t know,” said he. “Let’s go and ask.” So, with much trepidation, they rang the bell of the parsonage on the side-street. But the white-capped maid who answered told them that the pastor was not in, and that there were no curates or apprentices about. They went on. “How much do you suppose they charge, anyway?” asked Thyrsis. “I don’t know--I think you give what you can spare. How much money have you?” “I’ve got eight dollars to my name.” “Have you got it with you?” “Yes--all of it.” “I get my twenty-five to-morrow,” she added. “Do you really get it?” he asked. “You can depend on it?” “Oh yes--it comes the middle of each month.” “I’ve heard of people getting incomes from investments, and things like that, but it always seemed hard to believe. I never thought I’d meet with it in my own life.” “It’s certainly very nice,” said Corydon. “Where does it come from?” “There’s a trustee of the estate who sends it. It’s Mr. Hammond.” “That bald-headed man I met once?” “Yes, he’s the one. He’s quite a well-known lawyer, and they say I’m fortunate to have him.” “I see,” said Thyrsis. “I’ll have to look into it some day. You know you have to endow me with all your worldly goods!” They went on down the avenue, and came to a Jewish temple with a gilded dome. “I wonder how that would do,” said Corydon. “I don’t think it would do at all,” said Thyrsis. “We’d surely have to believe something there.” So they went on again. And on a corner, as they stopped to look about them, a strange mood came suddenly to Thyrsis. It was as if a veil was rent before him--as if a bolt of lightning had flashed. What was he going to do? He was going to bind himself in marriage! He was going to be trapped--he, the wild thing, the young stag of the forest! “What is it?” asked Corydon, seeing him standing motionless. “I--I was just thinking,” he said. “What?” “I was afraid, Corydon, I wondered if we were sure--if we realized--” “If we _realized!_” she cried. “You know--it’ll be forever--” “Why, Thyrsis!” she exclaimed, in horror. And so he started, and laughed uneasily. “It was just a queer fancy that came to me,” he said.