and worked, rose silvered by the moonlight just across the narrow way;
the three high windows of the _Speise Saal_ give out upon the old
Cathedral tower beneath which now he rests. Philosophy, curious
concerning human phenomena, eager for experience, unhampered by the
limitation Convention would impose upon all speculation, was in the
smoky air.

"Not into future events," remarked the Rev. Nathaniel Armitage, "it is
better they should be hidden from us. But into the future of
ourselves--our temperament, our character--I think we ought to be
allowed to see. At twenty we are one individual; at forty, another
person entirely, with other views, with other interests, a different
outlook upon life, attracted by quite other attributes, repelled by
the very qualities that once attracted us. It is extremely awkward,
for all of us."

"I am glad to hear somebody else say that," observed Mrs. Everett, in
her gentle, sympathetic voice. "I have thought it all myself so
often. Sometimes I have blamed myself, yet how can one help it: the
things that appeared of importance to us, they become indifferent; new
voices call to us; the idols we once worshipped, we see their feet of
clay."

"If under the head of idols you include me," laughed the jovial Mr.
Everett, "don't hesitate to say so." He was a large red-faced
gentleman, with small twinkling eyes, and a mouth both strong and
sensuous. "I didn't make my feet myself. I never asked anybody to
take me for a stained-glass saint. It is not I who have changed."

"I know, dear, it is I," his thin wife answered with a meek smile. "I