imes, to
penetrate the future and select the wisest course, but it is far easier,
and perhaps more natural, to drift aimlessly along, trusting to no other
guide than fatuity. At moments a faint sense of fear feebly urged Marion
to hold back, but wild fancies burned so impetuously in her heart that
she was carried on past the point where she might have calmly considered
the probable result of her conduct.

At last she was a woman, she thought, and felt as other women did.
After years passed in eking out a monotonous existence amid repellent
surroundings she felt emancipated by the knowledge that she had found
the love her nature craved. Now that Duncan had brought her this love
should she refuse the gift and voluntarily return to the slavery in
which she had lived so long? This was the question she asked herself. It
would be transgressing the rules of society if she permitted herself to
enjoy this love, but what difference did that make? For years she had
been religiously obeying those rules, and her existence had been one of
wretched discontent. Certainly the other course could not make her more
unhappy, and, besides, she had seen women in other cities break loose
from the bonds of convention and still maintain a standing in the world.
In fact, they had been almost openly applauded for their action, and
certainly had not suffered, socially, for their courage. After all,
virtue was little else than fear, and it was only a weak nature that
would permit itself to be coerced by the danger of discovery. In older
places that danger had been modified by the liberality of an advanced
society, and as she had only the restricted provincialism of Chicago to
fear, she felt a secret delight in defying the prudish gossips of the
Knox Presbyterian Church. After all, she felt that she was clever enough
to elude discovery, and relying on her discretion she permitted herself
to dismiss fear from her heart as unworthy of a superior nature. It was
by such reasoning as this that she forced her judgment to approve the
promptings of her heart.

Marion watched the moments roll by. As the hour approached when she was
to meet Duncan alone she felt calmer than she had at any time since
their parting. At six o'clock she heard the brougham drive up to the
door to take her husband to the station, and when he came into her room
to bid her good-by, she calmly kissed him, congratulating herself that
she had not betrayed the slightest agitation. All lo