ut now see that I knew absolutely nothing about them. I
took it for granted that they would always walk, as they seemed to be
doing, in ways of pleasantness and peace.

It never entered my head that anybody of my own blood and a decent
bringing-up could do what Desire did presently. I had a simple-minded
notion that we were above it. Which brings me back to my premise.
After all, we of a long inheritance of upright {65} living do not
always behave better than other people.

II

Lucretia was first to come.

The winter it all happened, I was house-bound with rheumatism and had
no active part in the drama. By day I was wheeled into the little
upstairs study and sat with my mind on chloroform liniment and
flannels, while my family and friends came to me, bearing gifts.
Sometimes they sought the house to amuse me, sometimes to relieve
their minds.

Lucretia's burden was heaviest, so she was first.

The November morning was raw and hideous. There were flakes of snow on
my sister's venerable and shabby sealskin. She laid back the {66} veil
on the edge of her little black bonnet,--she had been a widow for two
years,--brushed the snow from her slightly worn shopping-bag and sat
down in front of the fire, pulling nervously at her gloves.

Lucretia is thin, sharp-featured ivory-skinned. Her aspect is both
fatigued and ardent. Nothing that Mary and I were ever able to do for
her lifted in the least from her own spirit the weight of her
poverty-stricken, troublous, married life; and in her outer woman she
persists in retaining that aspect of carefully brushed, valiantly
borne adversity which is so trying to more prosperous and
would-be-helpful kin.

I made a few comments on the weather, which Lucretia did not answer.
Realizing suddenly that she was agitated, I became silent, hoping that
{67} the quiet, comfortable room, the snapping fire, and my own
inertness, would act as a sedative. It did not occur to me that any
really serious matter could be afoot. I had ceased to expect that life
would offer any of us anything worse than occasional physical
discomfort.

Having regained her composure, my sister spoke without preface.

"I am in great trouble, Benjamin. Desire has made up her mind to leave
her husband, and nothing I say has the slightest effect."

"Good Heavens! Lucretia! What do you mean?"

"Just what I say. Desire declares she isn't satisfied as Arnold
Ackroyd's wife. So she propos