At length, he resumed,—
“Courtship and married life usually, mind I say usually, resolve themselves into three phases, or, as you will understand the expression better, three periods.
“The first is the young lover, who once having gained the affections of a girl, thinks that there can be no other like her in all the world. He sees not the imperfections in her that others do; she must have faults, who has not? but his goddess is absolutely without one fault in his eyes, and who would dare to tell him that she is not perfect? Certainly not his friends, or her friends; more especially not those women who, fancying that the young people are suited to each other in the main points of character—in a case which we may suppose—urge on the courtship by many little innocent devices. Thus these perfect beings, for the man has equally no fault in the eyes of the girl who has chosen him—are brought up or rather carried along in an atmosphere of mutual bliss and affection. Then follows the marriage. So far the first period.
“Now the second is like unto it, excepting that after the honeymoon—yes, usually after that term of bliss—during the first months of married life he has sobered down a bit, she is much the same, and expects the same ardent attentions as she received during courtship; he, though just as fond of the girl as his wife, thinks a little more of himself, is more selfish—how shall I put it?—perhaps now and then absents himself for the whole of the day; if in the country, it may be for purposes of sport; if in town, he may remember that he has neglected his club of late, and, rejoining his companions there, returns home somewhat later than his wife thinks there is occasion for.
“In this conduct the wife sees a change, considers herself neglected; and her spouse, for not quite the first time, notices upon his return home, a little ‘mou’ in her mouth.
“The fact is that the man before he met this woman was perfectly free in all his works and ways, was selfish—that is, regarded his own interests solely—he now finds that he has surrendered his liberty, this he never foresaw, or never dwelt upon during the intoxication of courtship.
“Granting that they are people imbued with common sense, they soon find that they must give in to each other a little if they wish to live happily together.
“Let us suppose, in the case we are picturing, that they have succeeded in giving way to each other, the years then roll on to the—
“Third period.—A new feeling has been springing up between them, a better feeling, a better understanding exists, there is more real reliance upon each other than ever truly took place during the days of courtship. That long past event he never regrets, though perhaps sometimes the thought has crossed his mind for a brief instant that when he lost his heart he lost his head too; but now he feels that he has gained a faithful and gentle companion, who has helped to render him more gentle, and to think more of others, and, we will hope, Mat, to help him to think and to know that there is a world beyond this, where ‘they two may meet again.’”
The parson stopped, and fixed his honest, grey eyes on Mat, who, however, was lost in thought, and did not respond.