essly. "Don't you think you might find out? Before
you condemn yourself and me to everlasting separation, don't you think
you might at least ask him?"

"Yes," said Edith, slowly. "I might ask him. I'll go----"

"No, you needn't go. Can't you write?"

"Yes," she returned. "I can write."

All the emotion had gone from her voice. She said the words as
meaninglessly as a parrot might.

"A letter has distinct advantages," remarked Alden, trying to speak
lightly. "You can say all you want to say before the other person has a
chance to put in a word."

"Yes," she agreed, in the same meaningless tone. "That is true."

"When," queried Alden, after a pause, "will you write?"

"To-morrow."

He nodded his satisfaction. "Tell him," he suggested, "that you love
another man, and----"

"No," she interrupted, "I won't tell him that. I'll say that I've tried
my best to be a good wife, that I've tried as best I knew to make him
happy. I'll say I've--" she choked on the word--"I'll say I've failed.
I'll tell him I can do no more, that I do not believe I can ever do any
better than I have done, and ask him to tell me frankly whether or not
he prefers to be free. That's all."

[Sidenote: How Different?]

"That isn't enough. You have rights----"

"We're not speaking of my rights," she said, coldly. "We're speaking of
his."

A silence fell between them, tense and awkward. The open gate between
them had turned gently upon its hinges, then closed, with a suggestion
of finality. The clock struck the half hour. Outside, the cricket still
chirped cheerily, regardless of the great issues of life and love.

"Come outside," Alden pleaded, taking her hand in his.

"No," she said, but she did not withdraw her hand.

"Come, dear--come!"

He led her out upon the veranda where the moon made far-reaching shadows
with the lattice and the climbing rose, then returned for chairs, the
same two in which they had sat the night before. She was the first to
break the pause.

"How different it all is!" she sighed. "Last night we sat here in the
moonlight, just where we are now. In twenty-four hours, everything has
changed."

"The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul."

he quoted softly.

[Sidenote: When They Knew]

"When did you--know?" she asked.

"The night I read Rossetti to you and kissed your arm, do you remember?
It rushed upon me like an overwhelming flood. When did