well, then shake hands only. We shall be better friends by-and-by."

They suffered her to touch a little hand of each, passively rather than
unwillingly, and let it go. For a minute or so the boy and girl stood
opposite her, holding fast by one another, and staring with all their
eyes; but they said nothing more, being apparently very "good"
children, that is, children brought up under the old-fashioned rules,
which are indicated in the celebrated rhyme,

_"Come when you're called,
Do as you're bid:
Shut the door after you,
And you'll never be chid."_

Therefore, on being told to sit down, they gravely took their places on
the sofa, and continued to stare.

The father and bridegroom looked on, silent as they. What could he
say or do? It was the natural and necessary opening up of that vexed
question--second marriages, concerning which moralists,
sentimentalists, and practical people argue forever, and never come to
any conclusion. Of course not, because each separate case should
decide itself. The only universal rule or law, if there be one, is that
which applies equally to the love before marriage; that as to a complete,
mutual first love, any after love is neither likely, necessary, nor
desirable; so, to anyone who has known a perfect first marriage--the
whole satisfaction of every requirement of heart and soul and human
affection--unto such, a second marriage, like a second love, would be
neither right nor wrong, advisable nor unadvisable, but simply
impossible.