nderstood, conveys the gist of long and
delicate explanations; and where the life is known even _yea_ and _nay_
become luminous. In the closest of all relations--that of a love well
founded and equally shared--speech is half discarded, like a roundabout,
infantile process or a ceremony of formal etiquette; and the two
communicate directly by their presences, and with few looks and fewer
words contrive to share their good and evil and uphold each other's
hearts in joy. For love rests upon a physical basis; it is a familiarity
of nature's making and apart from voluntary choice. Understanding has in
some sort out-run knowledge, for the affection perhaps began with the
acquaintance; and as it was not made like other relations, so it is not,
like them, to be perturbed or clouded. Each knows more than can be
uttered; each lives by faith and believes by a natural compulsion; and
between man and wife the language of the body is largely developed and
grown strangely eloquent. The thought that prompted and was conveyed in
a caress would only lose to be set down in words--ay, although
Shakespeare himself should be the scribe.

Yet it is in these dear intimacies, beyond all others, that we must
strive and do battle for the truth. Let but a doubt arise, and alas! all
the previous intimacy and confidence is but another charge against the
person doubted. "_What a monstrous dishonesty is this if I have been
deceived so long and so completely!_" Let but that thought gain
entrance, and you plead before a deaf tribunal. Appeal to the past; why,
that is your crime! Make all clear, convince the reason; alas!
speciousness is but a proof against you. "_If you can abuse me now, the
more likely that you have abused me from the first._"

For a strong affection such moments are worth supporting, and they will
end well; for your advocate is in your lover's heart and speaks her own
language; it is not you but she herself who can defend and clear you of
the charge. But in slighter intimacies, and for a less stringent union?
Indeed, is it worth while? We are all _incompris_, only more or less
concerned for the mischance; all trying wrongly to do right; all fawning
at each other's feet like dumb, neglected lapdogs. Sometimes we catch an
eye--this is our opportunity in the ages--and we wag our tail with a
poor smile. "_Is that all?_" All? If you only knew! But how can they
know? They do not love us; the more fools we to squander life on the
indifferen