She sighed a little. 'Sometimes—particularly when dear William was just beginning to grow again—did I have my qualms of discouragement. A beard in its incipient stages is an unbecoming, almost startling affair, Netta. Then of course, I find solace by looking at this,' and she held out a small locket containing a portrait of William in his glorified state. 'Also I always keep his white spats and lavender gloves as a remembrance.'
There was a hint of sadness in the idea. It seemed almost as if William was dead—one phase of him was, at all events.
'Then you do regret——' I began.
'I regret nothing, Netta,' she broke in very decidedly. 'I am now getting quite reconciled to dear William's present appearance, and I know he's happier in his natural state.'
This was obviously true. William, his feet once more installed on the mantelpiece, pulling hard at his pipe (filled for him by Marion's loving hands) was a picture of perfect contentment.
But it was some time before I ventured to put the question to him that was uppermost in my thoughts.
'Are you happy, William?' I asked tensely when, for a moment, we were alone. 'Was my advice for better or for worse?'
He took my hand and wrung it warmly. 'My dear Netta!' he exclaimed, 'what a fool I was to hesitate even for a moment. Had it not been for you—and, I think I ought to add, Elizabeth—I might never have won such a treasure as my dear Marion. "Marriage," as Dr. Johnson has said, "is the best state for man in general," and although he added that it is more necessary to a man than a woman as he is less able to supply himself with domestic comforts, I think in that case it is put too crudely. I look upon it as something higher and nobler.'
'That's all right, then,' I said, relieved. 'Dr. Johnson seems to have as sound a philosophy as Elizabeth.'
As I sat meditating before the fire that evening, after the departure of the happy couple, Elizabeth entered. Her face betokened anxiety. 'You—you—didn't tell 'em anything, I 'ope?' she demanded.