The Broad Highway

"Do you still think me 'superior,' Charmian?"

"Do you still dream of your impalpable, bloodlessly-perfect

ideals, sir?"

"No," I answered; "no, I think I have done with dreaming."

"And I have done with this, thy coat, for behold! it is

finished," and rising, she folded it over the back of my chair.

Now, as she stood thus behind me, her hand fell and, for a

moment, rested lightly upon my shoulder.

"Peter."

"Yes, Charmian."

"I wish, yes, I do wish that you were either much younger or

very much older."

"Why?"

"Because you wouldn't be quite so--so cryptic--such a very

abstruse problem. Sometimes I think I understand you better than

you do yourself, and sometimes I am utterly lost; now, if you

were younger I could read you easily for myself, and, if you were

older, you would read yourself for me."

"I was never very young!" said I.

"No, you were always too repressed, Peter."

"Yes, perhaps I was."

"Repression is good up to a certain point, but beyond that it is

dangerous," said she, with a portentous shake of the head.

"Heigho! was it a week or a year ago that you avowed yourself

happy, and couldn't tell why?"

"I was the greater fool!" said I.

"For not knowing why, Peter?"

"For thinking myself happy!"

"Peter, what is happiness?"

"An idea," said I, "possessed generally of fools!"

"And what is misery?"

"Misery is also an idea."

"Possessed only by the wise, Peter; surely he is wiser who

chooses happiness?"

"Neither happiness nor misery comes from choice."

"But--if one seeks happiness, Peter?"

"One will assuredly find misery!" said I, and, sighing, rose, and

taking my hammer from its place above my bookshelf, set to work

upon my brackets, driving them deep into the heavy framework of

the door. All at once I stopped, with my hammer poised, and,

for no reason in the world, looked back at Charmian, over my

shoulder; looked to find her watching me with eyes that were (if

it could well be) puzzled, wistful, shy, and glad at one and the

same time; eyes that veiled themselves swiftly before my look,

yet that shot one last glance, between their lashes, in which

were only joy and laughter.

"Yes?" said I, answering the look. But she only stooped her head

and went on sewing; yet the color was bright in her cheeks.