doubt, or misgiving--a deliberate
choice between two courses.

"You cannot return to Parflete," he said quietly. "Don't despair. Your
marriage with him may be annulled. That aspect of the question is
revolting, abominable; but we are both in such a false position now that
we owe it as much to other people as we do to ourselves to put
everything in a true light. You are so brave, Brigit----"

"I am tired of being brave."

Her slender arms tightened about his neck; he could feel, from the whole
abandonment of her attitude and the slight weight of her childish form,
how little fitted she was physically for the squalid ordeal of the
law-courts. If she could live at all through horrors of the kind, it
would have to be by a miracle. And has one the right to hope for
miracles where the question of happiness or unhappiness in human love is
the egoistic point at stake? But, right or no right, there was in them
both that supreme and fatal force of affection which, if it be unusual,
is at least usual enough to be at the root of most mortal tragedies.

"I am tired or being brave," she repeated. "I want to rest."

In the mirror opposite them he saw the reflection of the bright garden
outside. How calm and still it seemed! Had he wandered there, years
before, with a beating heart, in search of his destiny, merely to find
it at last after the humiliation of a public scandal? Had his idyllic,
almost mystical romance, with all its aspirations, grace, and
unspeakable strength, been given to him just to be called from the
house-tops and discussed in the streets? Was this the end of all sublime
ideals? Did every delicate, secret sentiment have to endure, soon or
late, the awful test of degradation and mockery? Did it have to
come--this terrible day of trial when the Love which moves the sun and
the other stars had to pass through the common sieve with dust, ashes,
and much that was infinitely viler? No, he told himself, no: ten
thousand times, no.

"Listen," he said, "listen. You need not go back to him: he knows--every
one knows now that we love each other. We can't live together because
our marriage is not a marriage. Your marriage with Parflete was not a
marriage, but it appears so to the world. Is it worth while to undeceive
the world? When I think of the cost of such a proof--I say it is too
great. But if you are courageous--and you will be for my sake--we can
defy every one--on one condition. We must be sure of _ourselves_. We