her if she were as unworldly as she once was? Why should
this childish singing raise these contrasts, and put her at odds so with
her own life? For a moment I doubt not this dear girl saw herself as we
were beginning to see her. Who says that the rich and the prosperous and
the successful do not need pity?

Was this a comforting hour, do you think, for Margaret in the cathedral?
Did she get any strength, I wonder? When the singing was over and the
organ ceased, and the children had filed out, she stole away also,
wearily and humbly enough, and took the stage down the avenue. It was
near the dinner-hour, and Henderson, if he came, would be at home any
moment. It seemed as if she could not wait--only to see him!

XVIII

Do you suppose that Henderson had never spoken impatiently and sharply
to his wife before, that Margaret had never resented it and replied
with spirit, and been hurt and grieved, and that there had never been
reconciliations? In writing any biography there are some things that are
taken for granted with an intelligent public. Are men always gentle and
considerate, and women always even-tempered and consistent, simply by
virtue of a few words said to the priest?

But this was a more serious affair. Margaret waited in a tumult of
emotion. She felt that she would die if she did not see him soon, and
she dreaded his coming. A horrible suspicion had entered her mind that
respect for her husband, confidence in him, might be lowered, and a more
horrible doubt that she might lose his love. That she could not bear.
And was Henderson unconscious of all this? I dare say that in the
perplexing excitement of the day he did recall for a moment with a
keen thrust of regret the scene of the morning-his wife standing there
flushed, wounded, indignant. "I might have turned back, and taken her
in my arms, and told her it was all right," he thought. He wished he had
done so. But what nonsense it was to think that she could be seriously
troubled! Besides, he couldn't have women interfering with him every
moment.

How inconsiderate men are! They drop a word or a phrase--they do not
know how cruel it is--or give a look--they do not know how cold it
is--and are gone without a second thought about it; but it sinks into
the woman's heart and rankles there. For the instant it is like a mortal
blow, it hurts so, and in the brooding spirit it is exaggerated into a
hopeless disaster. The wound will heal with a kind word, wit