f his
garden without thinking of him--look at his seat in church and not care.
But I saw him this morning--dying because he loves me so--I know it is
that! Can I help loving him too? No, I cannot, and I will love him, and
I don't care! We have been separated somehow by some contrivance--I know
we have. O, if I could only die!'

He held her in his arms. 'Many a woman has gone to ruin herself,' he
said, 'and brought those who love her into disgrace, by acting upon such
impulses as possess you now. I have a reputation to lose as well as you.
It seems that do what I will by way of remedying the stains which fell
upon us, it is all doomed to be undone again.' His voice grew husky as
he made the reply.

The right and only effective chord had been touched. Since she had
seen Edward, she had thought only of herself and him. Owen--her
name--position--future--had been as if they did not exist.

'I won't give way and become a disgrace to _you_, at any rate,' she
said.

'Besides, your duty to society, and those about you, requires that you
should live with (at any rate) all the appearance of a good wife, and
try to love your husband.'

'Yes--my duty to society,' she murmured. 'But ah, Owen, it is difficult
to adjust our outer and inner life with perfect honesty to all! Though
it may be right to care more for the benefit of the many than for the
indulgence of your own single self, when you consider that the many, and
duty to them, only exist to you through your own existence, what can be
said? What do our own acquaintances care about us? Not much. I think of
mine. Mine will now (do they learn all the wicked frailty of my heart in
this affair) look at me, smile sickly, and condemn me. And perhaps, far
in time to come, when I am dead and gone, some other's accent, or some
other's song, or thought, like an old one of mine, will carry them back
to what I used to say, and hurt their hearts a little that they blamed
me so soon. And they will pause just for an instant, and give a sigh to
me, and think, "Poor girl!" believing they do great justice to my
memory by this. But they will never, never realize that it was my single
opportunity of existence, as well as of doing my duty, which they are
regarding; they will not feel that what to them is but a thought, easily
held in those two words of pity, "Poor girl!" was a whole life to me;
as full of hours, minutes, and peculiar minutes, of hopes and dreads,
smiles, whisperings, tears, as t