t it might have given him. She was disposed to
ignore those paternal passages in the night-watches, and to combat the
idea of his devotion to the child. That situation he had accepted, too.

But Anne, in appearing to accept everything, accepted nothing. She was
conscious of a mute rebellion, even of a certain disloyalty of the
imagination. She disapproved of Majendie more than ever. She guarded
her own purity now as her child's inheritance, and her motherhood
strengthened her spiritual revolt. Her mind turned sometimes to the ideal
father of her child, evoking visions of the Minor Canon whom her soul had
loved. Lent brought the image of the Minor Canon nearer to her, and
towards his perfections she turned the tender face of her dreams, while
she presented to her husband the stern face of duty. She had never
swerved from that. There was no reason why she should close her door to
him, since the material bond was torture to her, and the ramparts of the
spiritual life rose high. Her marriage was more than ever a martyrdom and
a sacrifice, redemptive, propitiatory of powers she abhorred and but
dimly understood.

Majendie was aware that she had now no attitude to him but one of apathy
touched by repugnance. He accepted the apathy, but the repugnance he
could not accept. The very tenderness and fineness of his nature held him
back from that, and Anne found once more her refuge in his chivalry. She
made no attempt to reconcile it with her estimate of him.

By the time the child was a year old their separation was complete.

As yet their good taste shrank from any acknowledgment of the rupture.
Majendie did his best to cover it by a certain fineness of transition,
and by a high smooth courtesy punctiliously applied. Anne responded on
the same pure note; for, tried by courtesy, her breeding rang golden to
the test.

She was not a woman (as Majendie had reflected several times already) to
trail an untidy tragedy through the house; she had never desired to play
a passionate part; and she was glad to exchange tragedy for the decent
drama of convention. She was helped both by her weakness and her
strength. Her soul was satisfied with its secret communion with the
Unseen; her heart was filled with its profound affection for her child;
her mind was appeased by appearances, and she had no doubt as to her
ability to keep them up.

It was Majendie who felt the strain. His mind had an undying contempt for
appearances; his heart and