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She smoothed it, and patted it, and folded it up and laid it beside her on the bed. She took up her pocket-handkerchief and shook it out and folded it and put it on the top of the dressing-jacket. "What are you doing, you darling?" "Going to bed." She looked at you with a half-happy, half-frightened smile, because you had found her out. She was putting out the baby clothes, ready.
Sitting there among the glittering, intertwisted, and suspended rocks, with the blaze from the torches flashing on her winsome face and luxuriant hair, with that half-troubled, half-happy look in her eyes, and an uncertain shadowy smile quivering on her sweet lips, the girl looked almost dangerously lovely, Helen of Troy could scarce have fired more passionate emotion among the old-world heroes than she unconsciously excited at that moment in the minds of all who beheld her.
It has the pensive tone of all his best poems of the kind, but it is the half-happy sadness of youth. All these early verses have an assured literary form. The scope and strain were new, but their most significant quality was not melody nor pensive grace, but humor. This was ingrained and genuine.
But she said nothing then of the long, restless, half-happy, half-wretched time when she had loved him and never even hoped he would care for her. There was time for all that. There were going to be long, joyous years together, years of being a "real woman," as she had so passionately wished to be that day in the library. She would never again need to envy any woman happiness or love or laughter.
Nothing to be seen but unhappy countenances or half-happy at best of emancipated 'prentices and little trades-folks, with here and there a servant maid that has got leave to go out, who, slaving all the week, with the habit has lost almost the capacity of enjoying a free hour; and livelily expressing the hollowness of a day's pleasuring.
There may be a day when, oh, I shall tell him everything; how wretched I was when he did not speak to me; how broken-hearted when I heard his voice with Mary; how fluttered, and half-happy, and half-wretched when I found that I was to have that long walk with him; and then how I determined to wait. I will tell him all, perhaps, some day. Good-night, dear, dear Patty.
Holy teachings are remembered afresh as thoughts run back to childhood. The world does not seem so bad when seen through the mist of half-happy, half-sad recollections of loved ones now with God.
A half-sad, half-happy smile was touching the corners of her mouth, when Charles Merchant knocked at her door. She gave herself one moment in which to banish the queer pain of knowing that she would never see this wild Andrew again, and then she told Charles to come in. In fact, he was already opening the door. He was calm of face, but she guessed an excitement beneath the surface.
His first few years seem to have been spent in a half-happy, half-careless boyhood; in them he had all the experiences of a poor but healthy Scotch peasant-lad, toiling in the fields, catching now and then a few weeks or months at school, coquetting with neighboring lasses, but with poverty and lack of social position always barring the way to his advancement.
The bridegroom stopped short, and a deep blush spread itself over his boyish face. His tone was filled full to overflowing with compunction as he answered. "Oh, Lord! I had forgotten all about Dad." He beamed on Mary with a smile half-ashamed, half-happy. "I'm awfully sorry," he said earnestly. "I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll send Dad a wireless from the ship, then write him from Paris."
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