etween pity and sympathy. One is thrown at you--the other walks with
you."

She only pressed my hand gratefully. Suddenly she turned and said
impulsively,

"Then you must know how utterly wretched I am."

Glancing over her shoulder I could see the eyes of her husband fastened
upon her with an expression which stirred me to put forth my best
efforts.

Then it came over me how pent-up all this intensity of feeling must be. I
realized how impossible it would seem to her to speak of it. Taking my
life in my hand--for I was mortally afraid--I rushed in, after the manner
of my kind, where angels fear to tread.

"Did you love him then so much?"

The pupils of her eyes enlarged until they were all black with excitement.
She caught both my hands in hers.

"Only God Himself knows how I loved him," she whispered.

I knew then that all Charlie had said was true, and, weak coward that I
was, if I could have undone the past, I would have given him back to her.
I was borne away by a glimpse of such love. O Charlie Hardy! And you cast
this from you for a pair of blue eyes!

"How came you to love such a weak man?" I asked tremblingly.

"That is what I want to know. How could I? How can girls of my sort love
so hopelessly beneath us? I've thought and wondered over that question
until my brain has almost turned, and the only consolation I find is that
I am not the only one. Other women, cleverer than I, have loved the most
contemptible of men and have been deceived just as I was. Oh, if he or I
had only died before I discovered the truth! If I could have mourned him
honorably and felt that my grief was dignified! But I won't allow myself
to grieve over him. I tell myself that I am well out of it and that I
ought to be glad. But instead of gladness there is a dull, miserable ache
in my heart, which I feel even in my sleep. Not for him; I don't mourn for
him, but for myself--for my fallen idols and my shattered ideals. What
will such men have to answer for? I doubt if I ever can believe in
anything human again."

"Anything _human_," I repeated gladly.

Louise looked down.

"He was not omnipotent," she said huskily. "He ruled my heart only, not
my soul."

"I suppose you have tried to love your husband?" I said.

"Tried? Oh, Ruth, I have tried so hard! He is so good to me. He knows
everything. Of course I told him. That was why we were married so
suddenly. He wished it and urged such excellent reasons, and I had so much
re