"
"Papa has mamma as well as you to kiss; but I have no one; I am an old
bachelor."
"When you have known mamma longer, will you kiss her too?"
"Old bachelors kiss nobody but little girls," I replied, laughing.
"We went down to the brougham, and after we were seated and on our
way," Ethel said, "Already I feel so much at home in New York, it almost
startles me. I fancied I should have forgotten old associations--should
have grown out of sympathy with them; but I seem only to have learned
to appreciate them more. Our memory for some things is better than we
would believe."
"There are two memories in us," I remarked; "the memory of the heart
and the memory of the head. The former never is lost, though the other
may be. But I had not supposed that you cared very deeply for the
American period of your life."
"England is very agreeable," she said, rather hastily. She turned her
head and looked out of the window; but after a pause she added, as if
to herself, "but I am an American!"
"There is, no doubt, a deep-rooted and substantial repose in English
life such as is scarcely to be found elsewhere," I said; "but, for all
that, I have often thought that the best part of domestic happiness
could exist nowhere but here.
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