to make the captive mouse believe she is not on guard. She walks away
with the utmost indifference. But let the mouse so much as move its
crushed little body, she is upon it with the ferocity of the greatest
members of her agile tribe. So it is with us. Let our possession escape
us, our consternation is complete. Again the spring uncoils, and again
we are madmen. "A murderous guilt shows not itself more soon than love
that would seem hid; love's night is noon," says Shakspeare. "It is
better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all" sings
Tennyson. "Nothing but real love," says Lord Lytton, "can repay us for
the loss of freedom, the cares and fears of poverty,