So it seemed, in love's first bloom. And yet, circumstances being as they were, it was hardly possible that Carlisle should at one stroke completely cut herself off from the past, as Florrie Willing constantly did, as the French people once did, by means of their well-known Revolution.
In Hugo's absence (full as the days were with questions of the trousseau, rendered doubly exciting by mamma's princely attitude toward expense), Carlisle began to recognize once more the landmarks of her former environment. Doubtless a certain period of emotional reaction was inevitable, and with it the reassociation of ideas began. Canning was away a solid month. One day soon after his return,--it was on a lovely afternoon in early May, as they were motoring homeward after four hours' delightful tête-à-tête in Canning's own car,--Carlisle said to him:
"Oh, Hugo, what do you think I did while you were away? Subscribed a hundred dollars to a Settlement House! My own money, too,--not papa's at all!"
Hugo, whose intensity of interest in his betrothed seemed only to have increased during the days of absence, cried out at her munificence.
"So, you've money, in those terms--well!" said he. "Aren't you mortally afraid of being gobbled up by a fortune-hunter some fine day?"
"A great many people have warned me about that--mentioning you specially, by the way. But I've always told them that you loved me for my fair face alone."
Canning made a lover's remark, a thoroughly satisfactory one.
"But don't you see," he added, "this business of your having money changes everything. I must double my working hours, I suppose! I'm too proud a man to be dependent on my wealthy wife for support."
"I'm glad to know you may be prosperous, too, some day, Hugo," said she; and, after a little more frivolous talk: "Did I mention that I'm soliciting subscriptions from visiting men for that Settlement I spoke of?"
"Great heavens!" cried Canning, amused. "Why, don't you think a Hundred Dollars is more than sufficient--for one little family?"