CHAPTER VI.
KENELM walked into the shop kept by the Somerses, and found Jessie
still at the counter. "Give me back my knap sack. Thank you," he
said, flinging the knapsack across his shoulders. "Now, do me a
favour. A portmanteau of mine ought to be at the station. Send for
it, and keep it till I give further directions. I think of going to
Oxford for a day or two. Mrs. Somers, one more word with you. Think,
answer frankly, are you, as you said this morning, thoroughly happy,
and yet married to the man you loved?"
"Oh, so happy!"
"And wish for nothing beyond? Do not wish Will to be other than he
is?"
"God forbid! You frighten me, sir."
"Frighten you! Be it so. Everyone who is happy should be frightened
lest happiness fly away. Do your best to chain it, and you will, for
you attach Duty to Happiness; and," muttered Kenelm, as he turned from
the shop, "Duty is sometimes not a rose-coloured tie, but a heavy
iron-hued clog."
He strode on through the street towards the sign-post with "To Oxford"
inscribed thereon. And whether he spoke literally of the knapsack, or
metaphorically of duty, he murmured, as he strode,--
"A pedlar's pack that bows the bearer down."
