from him which she would find
it difficult to obey, and to which she would be unable to trust.
And, moreover, why should she repeat this evil story against her
neighbours?

She had a long morning by herself after Will had started, and then
she endeavoured to arrange her thoughts and lay down for herself a
line of conduct. Presuming this story to be true, to what did it
amount? It certainly amounted to very much. If, in truth, this woman
had left her own husband and gone away to live with another man, she
had by doing so,--at any rate while she was doing so,--fallen in such
a way as to make herself unfit for the society of an unmarried young
woman who meant to keep her name unblemished before the world. Clara
would not attempt any further unravelling of the case, even in her
own mind;--but on that point she could not allow herself to have a
doubt. Without condemning the unhappy victim, she understood well
that she would owe it to all those who held her dear, if not to
herself, to eschew any close intimacy with one in such a position.
The rules of the world were too plainly written to allow her to guide
herself by any special judgment of her own in such a matter. But
if this friend of hers,--having been thus unfortunate,--had since
redeemed, or in part redeemed, her position by a second marriage,
would it be then imperative upon her to remember the past for ever,
and to declare that the stain was indelible? Clara felt that with a
previous knowledge of such a story she would probably have avoided
any intimacy with Mrs. Askerton. She would then have been justified
in choosing whether such intimacy should or should not exist, and
would so have chosen out of deference to the world's opinion. But
now it was too late for that. Mrs. Askerton had for years been her
friend; and Clara had to ask herself _this_ question; was it now
needful,--did her own feminine purity demand,--that she should throw
her friend over because in past years her life had been tainted by
misconduct.

It was clear enough at any rate that this was expected from
her,--nay, imperatively demanded by him who was to be her lord,--by
him to whom her future obedience would be due. Whatever might be her
immediate decision, he would have a right to call upon her to be
guided by his judgment as soon as she would become his wife. And
indeed, she felt that he had such right now,--unless she should
decide that no such right should be his, now or ever. It was still