iends
only showed itself in a trembling, a very slight trembling, of the hand
that rested on my arm. My interest in her increased tenfold. Only
a woman who had been accustomed to suffer, who had been broken and
disciplined to self-restraint, could have endured the moral martyrdom
inflicted on her as _this_ woman endured it, from the beginning of the
evening to the end.

Am I using the language of exaggeration when I write of my hostess in
these terms? Look at the circumstances as they struck two strangers like
my wife and myself.

Here was the first dinner party which Mr. and Mrs. Germaine had given
since their marriage. Three of Mr. Germaine's friends, all married men,
had been invited with their wives to meet Mr. Germaine's wife, and had
(evidently) accepted the invitation without reserve. What discoveries
had taken place between the giving of the invitation and the giving of
the dinner it was impossible to say. The one thing plainly discernible
was, that in the interval the three wives had agreed in the resolution
to leave their husbands to represent them at Mrs. Germaine's table;
and, more amazing still, the husbands had so far approved of the
grossly discourteous conduct of the wives as to consent to make the most
insultingly trivial excuses for their absence. Could any crueler slur
than this have been cast on a woman at the outs et of her married life,
before the face of her husband, and in the presence of two strangers
from another country? Is "martyrdom" too big a word to use in describing
what a sensitive person must have suffered, subjected to such treatment
as this? Well, I think not.

We took our places at the dinner-table. Don't ask me to describe that
most miserable of mortal meetings, that weariest and dreariest of
human festivals! It is quite bad enough to remember that evening--it is
indeed.

My wife and I did our best to keep the conversation moving as easily
and as harmlessly as might be. I may say that we really worked hard.
Nevertheless, our success was not very encouraging. Try as we might to
overlook them, there were the three empty places of the three absent
women, speaking in their own dismal language for themselves. Try as we
might to resist it, we all felt the one sad conclusion which those empty
places persisted in forcing on our minds. It was surely too plain that
some terrible report, affecting the character of the unhappy woman at
the head of the table, had unexpectedly come to light,