and less well. During the year in which they had "loved and longed in
secret," each had exalted the other to the position of a martyr and a
saint. The intimacy of their engagement was rapidly revealing the fact
that, after all, they were merely ordinary human beings, and the
discovery was something of a shock to both. Austin had thought over Uncle
Mat's advice, and found it good; he was gentle and considerate, and
showed himself perfectly willing to submit to Sylvia's wishes in most
important decisions, but he refused to be dictated to in little things.
She was so accustomed, by this time, to having her slightest whim not
only respected, but admired, by all the adoring Gray family, and most of
her world at large besides, that she was apt to behave like a spoiled
child when Austin thwarted her. She nearly always had to admit,
afterwards, that he had been right, and this did not make it any easier
for her. His "incessant obstinacy," as she called it, was rapidly
"getting on her nerves," while it seemed to him that they could never
meet that she did not have some fresh grievance, or disagree with him
radically about something. She wanted him at her side all the time; he
had a thousand other interests. She saw no reason why, after they were
married, they should live in the country all the year, and every year; he
saw no reason why they should do anything else. And so it went with every
subject that arose.

If Sylvia had been less idle, she would have had no time to think about
"nerves." But the manservant and his wife whom she had installed in the
little brick house were well-trained and competent to the last degree,
and the menage ran like clock-work without any help from her. She was
debarred from riding or driving alone, and the girls at the farm had no
time to go with her, and it was still an almost unheard-of thing in that
locality for a woman to run a motor. She could not fill an hour a day
working in her little garden, and she had no special taste for sewing.