He bent forward and kissed her on the forehead. “And do you remember what you said when I told you that?”
“What did I say?” she asked, with a smile.
“You said you’d rather be poor with me than the richest woman in the world without me. You were a very romantic little girl in those days, weren’t you? And then I made up my mind to make a great place for you. That’s the only real happiness that has come out of my luck here, Helen—seeing you respected and admired by these great people in Washington, the famous men we used to talk about and wonder if we’d ever know.” He stopped; then he went on, in a lower voice: “Some of them I know a little too well now. Oh, ho!” he sighed, “I’m afraid I’m growing pessimistic. It can’t be I’m getting old without realizing it. See these two lines that are coming on my forehead. They grow deeper and deeper with every session of Congress.”
“They’ll go away when you take your vacation, Douglas,” she said, reassuringly.
“And you haven’t a line in your face, dear,” he said, looking at her with a husband’s proprietary pride.
She shook her head. “Oh, yes, around the eyes. They’re plain enough when I’m tired.”
“No matter, you always look the same to me. I sha’n’t ever see ’em,” he went on, exultingly. Then he sighed again. “What a fine thing it would be if we could give our poor brains a vacation, if we could only stop thinking for a few weeks! But for some of us the waking up would be—well, it wouldn’t be cheerful. Helen, the other night I dreamed that we were back in the little cottage in Waverly, where we lived during the first year of our marriage. I could see the old-fashioned kitchen stove and the queer little furniture, and your father’s portrait over the mantel in the parlor. It all seemed so cheerful and restful and happy and innocent. There you were, in that pretty little house dress you used to wear—the one I liked, you know, with the little flowers worked in it. We were just two youngsters again, and it seemed good to be there with you all alone. Then I woke up, and a thousand worries began to buzz around my head like an army of mosquitoes, and I had that awful sinking of the heart that you feel after you come back from a pleasant dream and have to face reality again.”
“You mustn’t think of those things, Douglas.”
“Mustn’t think of them? Why, they’re the things that keep me happy. If I didn’t think about those days and expect to live them over again some time, I believe I’d lose courage.”
“No, you wouldn’t, Douglas. You just imagine that.”