"I dare say," he says, taking my right hand, and holding it with a cool and kindly clasp, "that you think it difficult--next door to impossible--for two people, one at the outset, one almost on the confines of life, to enter very understandingly into each other's interests! No doubt the thought that I--being so much ahead of you in years"--(sighing again heavily)--"cannot see with your eyes, or look at things from your stand-point--would make it harder for you to come to me in your troubles; but indeed, dear, if you believe me, I will _try_, and, as we are to spend our lives together, I think it would be better, would not it?" He speaks with a deprecating humility, an almost imploring gentleness, but I am so thoroughly upset by the astounding change that has come over the tone of his talk--by the clouds that have suddenly darkened the morning sunshine of my horizon--that I cannot answer him in the same tone. "Perhaps we shall not have to spend all our lives together!" I say, with a harsh laugh. "Cheer up! One of us may _die_! who knows?" After that we neither of us say any thing till we reach the house. CHAPTER XXXVII. "Yea, by God's rood, I trusted you too well!" In the hall we part without a word, and I, spiritlessly, mount the staircase alone. How I flew down it this morning, three steps at a time, and had some ado to hinder myself from sliding down the banisters, as we have all often, with dangerous joy, done at home! Now I crawl up, like some sickly old person. When I reach my bedroom, I throw myself into the first chair, and lie in it-- "... quiet as any water-sodden log Stayed in the wandering warble of a brook." I do not attempt to take off my hat and jacket. Of what use is it to take them off more than to leave them on, or to leave them on more than to take them off? Of what use is _any thing_, pray? What a weary round life is! what a silly circle of unfortunate repetitions! eating only to be hungry again; waking only to sleep; sleeping only to wake!