Therewasagraymistacrossthesun，sothattheeyecouldbearitslight，andErnest，whilemusingasabove，waslookingrightintothemiddleofthesunhimself，asintothefaceofonewhomheknewandwasfondof。Atfirsthisfacewasgrave，butkindly，asofatiredmanwhofeelsthatalongtaskisover；butinafewsecondsthemorehumoroussideofhismisfortunespresenteditselftohim，andhesmiledhalfreproachfully，halfmerrily，asthinkinghowlittleallthathadhappenedtohimreallymattered，andhowsmallwerehishardshipsascomparedwiththoseofmostpeople。Stilllookingintotheeyeofthesunandsmilingdreamily，hethoughthowhehadhelpedtoburnhisfatherineffigy，andhislookgrewmerrier，tillatlasthebrokeoutintoalaugh。Exactlyatthismomentthelightveilofcloudpartedfromthesun，andhewasbroughttoterrafirmabythebreakingforthofthesunshine。Onthishebecameawarethathewasbeingwatchedattentivelybyafellow-travelleroppositetohim，anelderlygentlemanwithalargeheadandiron-greyhair。
“Myyoungfriend。”saidhe，good-naturedly，“youreallymustnotcarryonconversationswithpeopleinthesun，whileyouareinapublicrailwaycarriage。”
Theoldgentlemansaidnotanotherword，butunfoldedhisTimesandbegantoreadit。AsforErnest，heblushedcrimson。Thepairdidnotspeakduringtherestofthetimetheywereinthecarriage，buttheyeyedeachotherfromtimetotime，sothatthefaceofeachwasimpressedontherecollectionoftheother。
Somepeoplesaythattheirschooldayswerethehappiestoftheirlives。Theymayberight，butIalwayslookwithsuspicionuponthosewhomIhearsayingthis。Itishardenoughtoknowwhetheroneishappyorunhappynow，andstillhardertocomparetherelativehappinessorunhappinessofdifferenttimesofone’slife；
theutmostthatcanbesaidisthatwearefairlyhappysolongaswearenotdistinctlyawareofbeingmiserable。AsIwastalkingwithErnestonedaynotsolongsinceaboutthis，hesaidhewassohappynowthathewassurehehadneverbeenhappier，anddidnotwishtobeso，butthatCambridgewasthefirstplacewherehehadeverbeenconsciouslyandcontinuouslyhappy。