er that I could
perfectly understand that it had been a great shock to her--a shock that
I was more sorry for than she could possibly be. But as it had happened,
we must both make the best of it, and her 'best' was simply to forget
all about it as soon as she could,--it was wonderful how much one could
forget if one tried; I could assure her that nothing should ever touch
her position as my wife, there should be no breath upon that; always I
should give her in the eyes of all the world the first honor, the first
place. You see, it was the best I could do. I couldn't deny the letter;
it was in my own handwriting, it even had a date; and it wasn't a
letter, either, that you could explain away. But I couldn't do anything
with her. I don't mean that she argued or combated, she seemed all
broken to pieces; she sat there looking at me with a sort of wonder and
horror combined. Before night she was ill--a fever. She was ill three
weeks, and I was as nice to her all that time as I possibly could be, I
brought her lovely flowers every day. As she grew better, I hoped we
were going to go on in peace; certainly the last thing I wanted was a
quarrel with her. But--women are bound to be fools! no sooner was she
able to sit up than she took the first chance to ask me (there had been
a nurse about before) whether I had abandoned that dreadful affair. I
suppose I could have lied to her, if I was going to do it, that was the
time. But, as it happens, I don't lie, it has never been one of my
accomplishments. So I told her that she ought to treat such things as a
lady should,--that is, not descend to them; and I told her furthermore
that she ought to treat this one as _my wife_ should. When I said that,
I remember she looked at me as if she were in a sort of stupor; you see,
to _her_ sense, she _was_ treating it as my wife should," commented
Lanse, telling his own story, as he felt himself, with much impersonal
fairness. "All this time, of course, I had had to postpone everything;
she continued to improve, and I took the ground of saying nothing. When
another month had passed, and she was perfectly well again, I mentioned
one day, carelessly, and before some one else, that I thought I should
try a little summer trip of thirty days or so across the ocean and back;
I shouldn't take her, because she wasn't as fond of the sea as I was,
and twenty of the thirty days would be spent afloat; she would be much
more comfortable at home--we had taken