"You have considered it so much and so closely, Del, that it is most disproportionately prominent in your mind. You can put out Bunker-Hill Monument with your little finger, if you hold it close enough to your eye. Don't you remember what Mr. Sampson said to-night about somebody whose mind had no perspective in it? that his shoe-ribbon was as prominent and important as his soul? Don't go and be a goosey, Del, and have no perspective, will you?" And Laura leaned over and kissed my forehead, all corrugated with my pet grief.
"Well, Laura, what can be worse? I declare—almost I think, Laura, I would rather he should have some great defect."
"Moral or physical? Gambling? one leg? one eye? lying? six fingers? How do you mean, Del?"
"Oh, patience! no, indeed!—six fingers! I only meant"——
And here, of course, I stopped.
"Which virtue could you spare in Mr. Sampson?" said Laura, coolly, fastening my hair neatly in its net, and sitting down in her rocking-chair.
When it came to that, of course there were none to be spared. We undressed, silently,—Laura rolling all her ribbons carefully, and I throwing mine about; Laura, consistent, conservative, allopathic, High-Church,—I, homoeopathic, hydropathic, careless, and given to Parkerism. It did not matter, as to harmony. Two bracelets, but no need to be alike. We clasped arms and hearts all the same. By-and-by I remembered,—
"Oh! what's your good news, Laura?"
"Ariana Cooper and Geraldine Parker are both married,—both on the same day, at Grace Church, New York."
"Is it possible? Who told you? How do you know?"