I am happily married. My wife is as good as she is beautiful. Following
is a brief description of her:
Her hair ripples into alluring little golden ringlets about her rosy
cheeks. Her eyes are large and brown and are fringed with exquisitely
long eyelashes. Her lips are almost perfectly formed and she has the
sweetest smile in all the world.
I love to fondle and amuse her. I kiss the white neck, her lips,
her hands—and I dream. Why shouldn’t I dream—does not every happily
married man live in fancy? My dream, good God, brings to me a terrible
realization!
Before me is not my wife, but her sister, a girl of eighteen years, who
is said to be her living image. Their features are almost identical.
The girl’s lips, however, are delicately perfect. Her eyes, if possible,
are even more expressive than those of the other woman, and are larger.
Her hair, when opened out, tumbles like a great waterfall down her back.
When with her, I am contented, absolutely so. When away from her, I grow
morose; her image haunts me. I see her at the head of my table, by my
fireside; then, as I try to gather her in my arms, just as I need her
most, she vanishes. When I kiss her, I know that before me is the one
woman in the world—the only one! And she understands—perhaps. She calls
me “dear brother Jack,” but when alone with me, her lips cry: “Jack
dearest!”
I am ten years her senior. My love for her far surpasses that of an
ordinary brother-in-law.
My wife is older than I, and perhaps understands me less than she dares
realize. When our lips meet, I try hard to convince myself that I have
all in life—nothing remains to long for. Suddenly I think I hear a
girlish voice call “Jack!” I seem to see the other woman before me. I
crush her to me and kiss her long and passionately. Even then I am not
satisfied! I hold her closer in my arms and cry, “Mine—only mine!” She
smiles that tantalizing, adorable smile. “I love you!” I exult! Her smile
fades into a pout. “Stop!” she cries, “how you have mussed me; now I
shall be obliged to arrange my hair again before dinner. I suppose that
‘home-brew’ has once more been affecting you! Jack, there is such a thing
as overdoing it!”
It is not the little girl of my dreams, but my wife—bah!
* * * * *