am
bound to tell him the truth."

"Then we must go?"

"Probably."

"At once?"

"When it has been so decided, the sooner the better. How could we endure
to remain here when our going shall be desired?"

"Oh no!"

"We must flit, and again seek some other home. Though he should keep our
secret,--and I believe he will if he be asked,--it will be known that
there is a secret, and a secret of such a nature that its circumstances
have driven us hence. If I could get literary work in London, perhaps we
might live there."

"But how,--how would you set about it? The truth is, dearest, that for
work such as yours you should either have no wife at all, or else a wife
of whom you need not be ashamed to speak the whole truth before the
world."

"What is the use of it?" he said, rising from his chair as in anger. "Why
go back to all that which should be settled between us, as fixed by fate?
Each of us has given to the other all that each has to give, and the
partnership is complete. As far as that is concerned, I at any rate am
contented."

"Ah, my darling!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms round his neck.

"Let there be an end to distinctions and differences, which, between you
and me, can have no effect but to increase our troubles. You are a woman,
and I am a man; and therefore, no doubt, your name, when brought in
question, is more subject to remark than mine,--as is my name, being that
of a clergyman, more subject to remark than that of one not belonging to a
sacred profession. But not on that account do I wish to unfrock myself;
nor certainly on that account do I wish to be deprived of my wife. For
good or bad, it has to be endured together; and expressions of regret as
to that which is unavoidable, only aggravate our trouble." After that, he
seated himself, and took up a book as though he were able at once to carry
off his mind to other matters. She probably knew that he could not do so,
but she sat silent by him for a while, till he bade her take herself to
bed, promising that he would follow without delay.

For three days nothing further was said between them on the subject, nor
was any allusion made to it between the Doctor and his assistant. The
school went on the same as ever, and the intercourse between the two men
was unaltered as to its general mutual courtesy. But there did
undoubtedly grow in the Doctor's mind a certain feverish feeling of
insecurity. At any rate, he knew this, that there