He was even so inconsequent, or so little recognized his position, as to
object in his heart to hear himself called Wilson.
It is true that she uttered Wilsonople as if the names formed one word.
And on a second occasion (when he inclined to feel hurt) she remarked, 'I
fear me, Wilsonople, if we are to speak plainly, thou art but a fool.'
He, perhaps, naturally objected to that. He was, however, giddy, and
barely knew.
Yet once more the magical woman changed. All semblance of harshness, and
harridan-like spike-tonguedness vanished when she said adieu.
The astronomer, looking at the crusty jag and scoria of the magnified
moon through his telescope, and again with naked eyes at the soft-beaming
moon, when the crater-ridges are faint as eyebrow-pencillings, has a
similar sharp alternation of prospect to that which mystified General
Ople.
But between watching an orb that is only variable at our caprice, and
contemplating a woman who shifts and quivers ever with her own, how vast
the difference!
And consider that this woman is about to be one's wife! He could have
believed (if he had not known full surely that such things are not) he
was in the hands of a witch.
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