ompanying her to
another philanthropic celebration. But what need had they of a real
home, when they no longer had any real life of their own? Nothing was
left of that secret inner union which had so enriched and beautified
their outward lives. Since Justine's return to Hanaford they had
entered, tacitly, almost unconsciously, into a new relation to each
other: a relation in which their personalities were more and more merged
in their common work, so that, as it were, they met only by avoiding
each other.

From the first, Justine had accepted this as inevitable; just as she had
understood, when Amherst had sought her out in New York, that his
remaining at Westmore, which had once been contingent on her leaving
him, now depended on her willingness to return and take up their former
life.

She accepted the last condition as she had accepted the other, pledged
to the perpetual expiation of an act for which, in the abstract, she
still refused to hold herself to blame. But life is not a matter of
abstract principles, but a succession of pitiful compromises with fate,
of concessions to old tradition, old beliefs, old charities and
frailties. That was what her act had taught her--that was the word of
the gods to the mortal who had laid a hand on their bolts. And she had
humbled herself to accept the lesson, seeing human relations at last as
a tangled and deep-rooted growth, a dark forest through which the
idealist cannot cut his straight path without hearing at each stroke the
cry of the severed branch: "_Why woundest thou me?_"

* * * * *

The lawns leading up to the house were already sprinkled with
holiday-makers, while along the avenue came the rolling of wheels, the
throb of motor-cars; and Justine, with Cicely beside her, stood in the
wide hall to receive the incoming throng, in which Hanaford society was
indiscriminately mingled with the operatives in their Sunday best.

While his wife welcomed the new arrivals, Amherst, supported by some
young Westmore cousins, was guiding them into the concert-hall, where he
was to say a word on the uses of the building before declaring it open
for inspection. And presently Justine and Cicely, summoned by Westy
Gaines, made their way through the rows of seats to a corner near the
platform. Her husband was there already, with Halford Gaines and a group
of Hanaford dignitaries, and just below them sat Mrs. Gaines and her
daughters, the Harry Dressels