The Consolations of Spinsterhood

: "[Sidenote: A Sheeted Spectre] Does she dare to forget and be happy? The other woman looks down upon her like a sheeted spectre conveying a solemn warning. 'You may die,' those pictured lips seem to say, 'and some other will take your place, as you have taken mine.' When the tactlessness, bad temper, or general mulishness of man wrings unwilling tears from her eyes, there is no sympathy to be gained from that impalpable presence. 'You should not have married him,' the picture seems to say, or; 'He treated me the same way, and I died.' She is not to be blamed if she fancies that her husband also feels the presence of the other. As she pours his coffee in the morning and he looks upon her with the fond glance which men bestow upon women about to give them food, she may easily imagine that he sees the other in her place. Even the clasp of her hand or the touch of her lips may bring a longing for that other, hidden in the far-off grave. Broadly speaking, widowers make better husbands than widows do wives. The presence of the dead wife may be a taunting memory, but seldom more. It is not often that she is spoken of, unless it is to praise her cooking. If she made incomparable biscuits and her coffee was fit to be the nectar of the gods, there are apt to be frequent and tactless comparisons, until painful experience teaches the sinner that this will not do."