as a better place for her than
New York; and what possible difference it could make to Simeon? The
answer came in plain, bold, horrid words, and he shrank from them. The
curse of Nathan was upon him; like David, he had condemned his friend
to absence and danger, and had then promptly fallen in love with his
wife. But not willingly, he pleaded, in extenuation; it had crept upon
him unawares. It was his own secret, he had never betrayed himself,
and so help his God, he would trample it down till he gained the
mastery. Not for one moment would he tolerate disloyalty to his
friend, even in his thoughts. Ben's suggestion was a happy solution of
the situation as far as he was concerned; he would urge Deena to go
before his folly could be suspected. To have any sentiments for a
woman like Mrs. Ponsonby except a chivalrous reverence was an offense
against his manhood.

French was a man who had been brought up to respect ceremonial in
daily living, and he dressed as scrupulously for his lonely dinner as
if a wife presided and expected the courtesy to her toilet. Somebody
has wisely said that unconsciously we lay aside our smaller worries
with our morning clothes, and come down to dinner refreshed in mind as
well as body by the interval of dressing. If Stephen did not exactly
hang up his anxiety with his coat, he at least took a more reasonable
view of his attachment to his neighbor's wife. He began to think he
had exaggerated an extreme admiration into love--that he was an
honorable man and a gentleman, and could keep his secret as many
another had done before him; and that if Deena went away for the
winter it removed the only danger, which was in daily meeting under
terms of established intimacy.

There was to be a lecture at the Athenaeum that evening on the
engineering difficulties incident to building the Panama Canal, and
Stephen, who was interested in the subject, made up his mind to start
early and stop for a moment at the Sheltons' to carry out Ben's
request. He took glory to himself for choosing an hour when Mrs.
Ponsonby was likely to be surrounded by a bevy of brothers and
sisters; he would never again try to see her alone.

His very footfall sounded heroic when he ran up the steps and rang the
bell. As he stood within the shelter of the storm door waiting to be
let in, the voices of the young Sheltons reached him, all talking at
once in voluble excitement, and then a hand was laid on the inside
knob and advice of