the burden of his business, which she could see pressed
more and more. Not that Henderson made any account of his growing
occupations, or that any preoccupation was visible except to the eye
of love, which is quick to see all moods. These were indeed happy
days, full of the brightness of an expanding prosperity and unlimited
possibilities of the enjoyment of life. It was in obedience to
her natural instinct, and not yet a feeling of compensation and
propitiation, that enlisted Margaret in the city charities, connection
with which was a fashionable self-entertainment with some, and a means
of social promotion with others. My wife came home a little weary with
so much of the world, but, on the whole, impressed with Margaret's
good-fortune. Henderson in his own house was the soul of consideration
and hospitality, and Margaret was blooming in the beauty that shines in
satisfied desire.

XIII

It is so painful to shrink, and so delightful to grow! Every one knows
the renovation of feeling--often mistaken for a moral renewal--when the
worn dress of the day is exchanged for the fresh evening toilet. The
expansiveness of prosperity has a like effect, though the moralist is
always piping about the beneficent uses of adversity. The moralist is,
of course, right, time enough given; but what does the tree, putting out
its tender green leaves to the wooing of the south wind, care for the
moralist? How charming the world is when you go with it, and not against
it!

It was better than Margaret had thought. When she came to Washington in
the winter season the beautiful city seemed to welcome her and respond
to the gayety of her spirit. It was so open, cheerful, hospitable, in
the appearance of its smooth, broad avenues and pretty little parks,
with the bronze statues which all looked noble--in the moonlight; it
was such a combination and piquant contrast of shabby ease and stately
elegance--negro cabins and stone mansions, picket-fences and sheds, and
flower-banked terraces before rows of residences which bespoke wealth
and refinement. The very aspect of the street population was novel;
compared to New York, the city was as silent as a country village, and
the passers, who have the fashion of walking in the middle of the street
upon the asphalt as freely as upon the sidewalks, had a sort of busy
leisureliness, the natural air of thousands of officials hived in
offices for a few hours and then left in irresponsible idleness. B