ste, might affect
your future life; and not only yours, but your baby's as well. You are
about to deal with baby's daddy as well as your husband, and the whole
of your world is looking on. You might take a prejudiced view of things
that have occurred. You might, in your anger and humiliation, feel
unforgiving towards him, and so, break up your home. I question whether
anything ought to weigh against your love for your husband, if in your
heart you love him and he loves you."

"Loving me, could he be disloyal?"

Honor hesitated. "It is possible he has been suffering from a clouded
mind. Things have not been correctly focussed, as it were. And while in
that condition, if he was tempted to drift into actual wrong-doing, I
should imagine that self-loathing and remorse would afterwards be a
worse punishment for him than you could possibly conceive of. This is
presuming he has done anything to be ashamed of. In that case, I could
not be harsh. Love always forgives--even to 'seventy times seven.'"

"Honey, you are an idealist! I wonder how many women could exercise so
much forbearance! Think of the anger, the humiliation, the resentment!
It is an outrage to one's faith and trust!"

"If you had remained within reach of him so that when he was ill you
could have gone to him at once, there would have been nothing to
forgive. But for a frivolous reason you put the seas between you and
threw his love back into his face. You are also very much to blame,"
said Honor boldly.

Joyce covered her face with her hands and wept silently.

* * * * *

Honor saw her into her train at Sealdah Station the following day, and
after an afternoon spent in shopping for her mother, returned to
Muktiarbad.

Joyce spent an uncomfortable night in the train on account of the muggy
heat which was barely rendered tolerable by electric fans in the
compartment, and was glad when the time came to transfer herself and her
baggage into the toy railway of the Himalayas, which rattled briskly up
the slopes by tortuous tracks into higher altitudes and cooler climes.

A party of ladies known to each other occupied the same compartment and
chattered of all they did in Darjeeling last year, and all they meant to
do. Joyce paid little heed while silently watching the changing views as
the train wound its way along the mountain sides. The infinite grandeur
of Nature on which humanity had set its stamp, thrilled her with
wonderme