What delight so unique as the preparation of the trousseau! 239 Trousseau!—­’T is a name of mystical import to man.

A woman’s trousseau is symbol of two things—­and perhaps dimly indicative of a third: 

(i) it proves—­what needs no proof—­that, such is the unselfish nature of Love, never can it give enough, never enhance too much the gifts it gives.  Accordingly the bride goes to the man appareled and bedecked to the best of her ability;

(ii) It is a subtle tribute to the sensibility of man, of the man in love, who is stimulated and pleased by dainty, it may be diaphanous, raiment.  Lastly, since even that supernal thing Love is not unconcerned with matters practical,

(iii) It bespeaks as prophetic suspicion of the little fact that perhaps it is well to go to her husband’s home abundantly provided with dainty raiment, inasmuch as the man not in love is not always so delicately sensible of their need.

* * *

A girl’s first engagement is peculiarly sweet:  long does she remember, long meditatively dwell upon, its pettiest incidents.  For, if any man dared give utterance to so outrageous an assumption,

The emoluments of a promise to marry are as sweet to the donatress as undoubtedly they are to the accepter.—­And why not, pray?  Nevertheless,

A certain practical sobriety supervenes upon subsequent affairs of the heart.  For

The recurrence of love is apt to spoil its romance.  And yet—­and yet—­

It is a question which woman after woman has put herself, in vain, whether ’t would have been wiser to have accepted and retained the romantic love of unthinking youth, or to have waited for the more sober affection of the years of discretion.

Perhaps a girl hardly knows all that is meant by that thing called “love” or what is entailed upon her by that thing called an “engagement”.  She has played with love so much, that when a real and serious love is offered her, she still thinks it the toy that amused her.  But

Soon enough does the man, if he is earnest—­and a man never proposes unless he is in earnest—­enlighten the girl of his choice:  for

To a man, love never is a toy—­though mere lust may be: 

Men never play with love, as do girls:  they play with lust,—­as they play with bats and balls and fire-arms;

When men fall in love, they fall in love with a vengeance; and

The seriousness with which the man falls in love startles the girl.

The man demands so much; is so exacting’ so peremptory; so unyielding; so frightfully selfish; so terribly jealous of the slightest look or smile or gesture bestowed upon any other than he, that the girl . . . . . . well, the girl probably begins to think, either that the man is an unreasonable brute, or that her girlish notions of love were somewhat astray.  Then one or two things happens:  either the man goes off in a huff; or the girl mends her ways.