used to live for the possible interest I might inspire in your sex, Isabel.  They controlled my movements, my attitudes; they forbade me repose; and yet I believe I was no ass, but a tolerably sensible fellow.  Blessed be marriage, I am free at last!  All the loveliness that exists outside of you, dearest,—­and it ’s mighty little,—­is mere pageant to me; and I thank Heaven that I can meet the most stylish girl now upon the broad level of our common humanity.  Besides, it seems to me that our experience of life has quieted us in many other ways.  What a luxury it is to sit here, and reflect that we do not want any of these people to suppose us rich, or distinguished, or beautiful, or well dressed, and do not care to show off in any sort of way before them!”

This content was heightened, no doubt, by a just sense of their contrast to the group of people nearest there,—­a young man of the second or third quality—­and two young girls.  The eldest of these was carrying on a vivacious flirtation with the young man, who was apparently an acquaintance of brief standing; the other was scarcely more than a child, and sat somewhat abashed at the sparkle of the colloquy.  They were conjecturally sisters going home from some visit, and not skilled in the world, but of a certain repute in their country neighborhood for beauty and wit.  The young man presently gave himself out as one who, in pursuit of trade for the dry-goods house he represented, had travelled many thousands of miles in all parts of the country.  The encounter was visibly that kind of adventure which both would treasure up for future celebration to their different friends; and it had a brilliancy and interest which they could not even now consent to keep to themselves.  They talked to each other and at all the company within hearing, and exchanged curt speeches which had for them all the sensation of repartee.

Young Man.  They say that beauty unadorned is adorned the most.

Young Woman (bridling, and twitching her head from side to side, in the high excitement of the dialogue).  Flattery is out of place.

Young Man.  Well, never mind.  If you don’t believe me, you ask your mother when you get home.

(Titter from the younger sister.)

Young Woman (scornfully).  Umph! my mother has no control over me!

Young Man.  Nobody else has, either, I should gay. (Admiringly.)

Young Woman.  Yes, you’ve told the truth for once, for a wonder.  I’m able to take care of myself,—­perfectly. (Almost hoarse with a sense of sarcastic performance.)

Young Man.  “Whole team and big dog under the wagon,” as they say out
West.

Young Woman.  Better a big dog than a puppy, any day.

Giggles and horror from the younger sister, sensation in the young man, and so much rapture in the young woman that she drops the key of her state-room from her hand.  They both stoop, and a jocose scuffle for it ensues, after which the talk takes an autobiographical turn on the part of the young man, and drops into an unintelligible murmur.  “Ah! poor Real Life, which I love, can I make others share the delight I find in thy foolish and insipid face?”