The power of eye and smile was too much for Constance, as it had happened more than once before; her own eyes fell and for a moment she wore a look of unwonted sadness and sweetness, at what from any other person would have roused her mockery.
"Mr. Carleton," said she, trying to rally herself but still not daring to look up, knowing that would put it out of her power,--"I can't understand how you ever came to be such a grave person."
"What is your idea of gravity?" said he smiling. "To have a mind so at rest about the future as to be able to enjoy thoroughly all that is worth enjoying in the present?"
"But I can't imagine how you ever came to take up such notions."
"May I ask again, why not I?"
"O you know--you have so much to make you otherwise."
"What degree of present contentment ought to make one satisfied to leave that of the limitless future an uncertain thing?"
"Do you think it can be made certain?"
"Undoubtedly!--why not? the tickets are free--the only thing is to make sure that ours has the true signature. Do you think the possession of that ticket makes life a sadder thing? The very handwriting of it is more precious to me, by far, Miss Constance, than everything else I have."
"But you are a very uncommon instance," said Constance, still unable to look up, and speaking without any of her usual attempt at jocularity.