it, and perhaps my husband
too, if he should find it out. Sometimes I cry to think how wrong it is
of me. My father told me it was my duty to be happy, with a kind, good
husband to take care of me, and I know I ought, but I feel so
homesick--for, I don't know what--for Nina and the sisters and the
convent. Oh," she broke off suddenly, "I do hope you will forgive me. It
is very silly to talk to you so, all about myself, but I have had no
one to speak to--at least no one but my husband, and I could not tell
him all these feelings that I ought to be ashamed of. I know it is my
duty to be satisfied and not feel homesick, but you think it will pass
away after a while, do you not?"

What was he to say? The truth was very plain to him that it would never
pass, but go on growing worse and worse, as gradually she came to know
her own soul better and to understand herself, in the light of the new
relationship she had entered into. In the case of most women the
revelation she had so unconsciously made to him of the insufficiency of
her marriage would have been unwomanly, and perhaps it was even so in
her, but it was so only in the sense of being childlike. She was really
no more than a child, and more ignorant of the world than many a child
of ten. What did she know about marriage or the needs of her own soul?
Evidently nothing, and some day he saw before her a terrible awakening
from this trance of ignorance. His heart literally ached for her as he
sought diligently in his mind for some way to help her and could find
not one. The only thing was to let her talk freely, to encourage her by
a gentle friendly interest, such as a girl friend might have shown, and
to give her the relief of expression for these vague troubles and
perplexities which, when uttered, seemed intangible and entirely
inexplicable to her. Not once did she so much as imply any reproach to
her husband, and it was plain that she felt unconscious of any ground
for complaint. She alluded to him frequently and always most kindly, and
laid at her own door the entire fault of her discontent.

Noel spoke little, but led her gently on to talk as freely as she chose.
Often she would pause and remind herself that she was doing wrong to
take up his whole visit with talk about herself, but it was evident it
never once occurred to her that she had been guilty of any self-betrayal
which she should not have made. He saw her utter loyalty to her husband,
even in thought, and i