reason and conscience both pronounce
wrong. I do not love Mary Arden; therefore, I will not marry her. I
settle that matter now, and forever."

And the decision was final. He did not visit her again for many
months, and then only after her engagement to another.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THERE were plenty of intrusive friends to give Mr. Dexter advice as
to how he should act towards the unhappy woman who had fled from him
in her despair. He was rich, good-hearted--as the world
goes--honorable, domestic in his feelings and habits; everything, in
fact, that society requires in the composition of a good husband.
The blame, therefore, among the friends of Mr. Dexter, was all on
the side of his wife.

"You will, of course, if she persists in this unwarrantable conduct,
demand a legal separation," said one.

"That is just what she wants," suggested another. "You could not
grant her a higher favor."

"Wait--wait," was the advice of a third.

And so the changes were rung. Dexter listened, pondered, suffered;
but admitted no one into the council chamber of his heart. There
were some things known only to himself and the one he had driven
from him, which he did not care to reveal. The shock of separation
had rent away a few scales from his eyes, and his vision was
clearer; but the clearer vision did not lessen his misery--for
self-upbraidings crowded in with the illustrating light.

For a while, jealous suspicion kept him watchfully alive to the
movements of Paul Hendrickson. In order to gain the most undoubted
information in regard to him, he secured the services of an
intelligent policeman, who, well paid for his work, kept so sharp an
eye upon him, that he was able to report his whereabouts for almost
every hour of the day and evening.

Days, weeks, months even passed, and the policeman's report varied
scarcely a sentence. The range of Hendrickson's movements was from
his place of business to his lodgings. Once a week, perhaps, he went
out in the evening; but never were his steps directed to the
neighborhood in which the object of his waking and dreaming thoughts
resided.

In part, this knowledge of Hendrickson's mode of living relieved the
mind of Dexter; yet, when viewed in certain lights, it proved a
cause of deeper disturbance. His conclusions in the case were near
the truth. Hendrickson's withdrawal of himself from society--his
hermit-like life--his sober face and musing aspect--seemed only so
many evidences