“Dear love, for thee I would lay down my li-i-fe: For, without thee, what would that life avail?”
The Goose informed Willie that the Senator was a retired Indian Viceroy, who had given many such a magnificent entertainment in his day. Willie put his finger to his nose, and immediately invited His Excellency to his wedding six days hence. Upon which His Excellency burst out crying, and said that the word reminded him of the best of departed wives. Harriet sat staring down into the now almost deserted pit.
The cold December dawn had not yet achieved more than the hope of its forthcoming when the Goose took away Mynheer Mopius in a cab to a quiet hotel. Behind them still echoed the loud talk of the young officers. They passed, in the fearsome streets, a troop of roysterers from a gin-shop. “We won’t go home till morning!” rang hideous on the patient night. Here and there a window shone out, fully lighted, with its message of suffering or suspense.
Up above--far, far above--stood, silent, God’s eternal stars; watchful, serenely waiting, in the darkness whence we come and whither we return.
Three days after the ball Mynheer Mopius paid up like a man, and three days after he had paid up, Mynheer Mopius was sitting one evening in his accustomed arm-chair, reflecting on his loneliness and the unexpected rarity of charming claimants for his hand. In fact, during this month, with his indecent precipitancy, he had exposed himself to a couple of very painful rebuffs. Of course, he was exceedingly angry with Harriet. But, really, all that he cared for was himself, his own comfort, his own glory, an audience, especially for his evening songs.
In the midst of his reflections Harriet walked in. She cast off her wrap, _sans gêne_, upon the nearest sofa.
“I’ve come to marry you, after all,” she said, quite collectedly.
“Harriet,” he replied, “this is--go away! After your conduct of last week, go away!”
“I forgive your conduct,” said Harriet, unmoved.
“And the--the Goose you were in love with?” inquired Mynheer Mopius, not without some satisfaction.
“He was unworthy,” replied Harriet, with level eyebrows. “He has thrown me over.”
“As soon as he had the money,” said Mynheer Mopius, rubbing his palms between his knees.