Mary Marie by Eleanor H. (Eleanor Hodgman) Porter
page 243 of 253 (96%)
page 243 of 253 (96%)
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be borne together--if one back is not to break under the load. We
were entering into a contract, not for a week, but, presumedly, for a lifetime--and a good deal may come to one in a lifetime--not all of it pleasant. We had been brought up in two distinctly different social environments, but we didn't stop to think of that. We liked the same sunsets, and the same make of car, and the same kind of ice-cream; and we looked into each other's eyes and _thought_ we knew the other--whereas we were really only seeing the mirrored reflection of ourselves. And so we were married. It was everything that was blissful and delightful, of course, at first. We were still eating the ice-cream and admiring the sunsets. I had forgotten that there were things other than sunsets and ice-cream, I suspect. I was not twenty-one, remember, and my feet fairly ached to dance. The whole world was a show. Music, lights, laughter--how I loved them all! _Marie_, of course. Well, yes, I suspect Marie _was_ in the ascendancy about that time. But I never thought of it that way. Then came the baby, Eunice, my little girl; and with one touch of her tiny, clinging fingers, the whole world of sham--the lights and music and glare and glitter just faded all away into nothingness, where it belonged. As if anything counted, with _her_ on the other side of the scales! I found out then--oh, I found out lots of things. You see, it wasn't that way at all with Jerry. The lights and music and the glitter and |
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