LOVERS MATED

He was benevolently martial, to the extent of paternal, in thinking his girl, of whom he deigned to think now as his countess, pardonably foolish.  Woman for woman, she was of a pattern superior to the world’s ordinary, and might run the world’s elect a race.  But she was pitifully woman-like in her increase of dissatisfaction with the more she got.  Women are happier enslaved.  Men, too, if their despot is an Ormont.  Colonel of his regiment, he proved that:  his men would follow him anywhere, do anything.  Grand old days, before he was condemned by one knows not what extraordinary round of circumstances to cogitate on women as fluids, and how to cut channels for them, that they may course along in the direction good for them, imagining it their pretty wanton will to go that way!  Napoleon’s treatment of women is excellent example.  Peterborough’s can be defended.

His Aminta could not reason.  She nursed a rancour on account of the blow she drew on herself at Steignton, and she declined consolation in her being pardoned.  The reconcilement evidently was proposed as a finale of one of the detestable feminine storms enveloping men weak enough to let themselves be dragged through a scene for the sake of domestic tranquillity.

A remarkable exhibition of Aminta the woman was, her entire change of front since he had taken her spousal chill.  Formerly she was passive, merely stately, the chiselled grande dame, deferential in her bearing and speech, even when argumentative and having an opinion to plant.  She had always the independent eye and step; she now had the tongue of the graceful and native great lady, fitted to rule her circle and hold her place beside the proudest of the Ormonts.  She bore well the small shuffle with her jewel-box—­held herself gallantly.  There had been no female feignings either, affected misapprehensions, gapy ignorances, and snaky subterfuges, and the like, familiar to men who have the gentle twister in grip.  Straight on the line of the thing to be seen she flew, and struck on it; and that is a woman’s martial action.  He would right heartily have called her comrade, if he had been active himself.  A warrior pulled off his horse, to sit in a chair and contemplate the minute evolutions of the sex is pettish with his part in such battle-fields at the stage beyond amusement.

Seen swimming, she charmed him.  Abstract views of a woman summon opposite advocates:  one can never say positively, That is she!  But the visible fair form of a woman is hereditary queen of us.  We have none of your pleadings and counter-pleadings and judicial summaries to obstruct a ravenous loyalty.  My lord beheld Aminta take her three quick steps on the plank, and spring and dive and ascend, shaking the ends of her bound black locks; and away she went with shut mouth and broad stroke of her arms into the sunny early morning river; brave to see, although he had to flick a bee of a question, why he enjoyed the privilege of seeing, and was not beside her.  The only answer confessed to a distaste for all exercise once pleasurable.