d, to yield
unquestioning obedience to his parents. His father and mother were both
descended from those strict, religious, doughty, aristocratic Dutch
families to which the Hague "set" is a thorn in the flesh; and they had
judged the matter thus, with rigid and scrupulous justice, as a duty
before God and man. And their heir, at this, the supreme moment of his
life, once more showed himself a dutiful son. He obeyed his parents'
command. He resigned his post, broke off his young career. He went to
Constance, telling her that his parents had sent him; but, in their
mutual misery, they still seemed to find some love for each other in
what remained of their first passion. She was too desperate to indulge
in long reflection or to decline the way of escape which he offered her.
As they could not be married at once by Dutch law, they were married in
London as soon as it was possible. Constance wrote to Henri's parents to
express her gratitude; but they did not answer her letter. They refused
to know her, refused to see her. They had sacrificed their son to her,
because they thought it their duty before God; and they had made this
heavy sacrifice, because they were religious people, honest, righteous
people; but their hearts were bitter against Constance: they would never
forgive her the sacrifice which their honesty, their righteousness had
required of them, the parents....

Henri and Constance had lived in England, travelled in Italy and ended
by settling down in Brussels. Their son was born; the years passed.
Slowly, in Brussels, they made acquaintances, made friends; and, in the
course of years, those acquaintances and friends dispersed. Twice, amid
heavy emotion, they had seen Mamma van Lowe in Brussels for a couple of
days at a time: the other members of the family never. The lonely years
dragged on. They both came to look upon their lives as one great
mistake. Constance' vanity, moreover, resented the dull existence which
they led; Henri, who was four years younger than his wife, was for ever
regretting that he had sacrificed his future to this woman at his
parents' behest. They were fettered to each other in the narrow prison
of marriage. Passion dead, the despairing illusion of love killed, they
had never been able to accommodate themselves to each other; and without
mutual accommodation there is no happiness in marriage. Whatever they
said or thought or did led to discord. Their lives were never in step,
but stumbled