other of
his child had claims upon him--to make him willing, for the child's
sake, to leave her the protection of his home and name as long as she
cared to keep it. Then, too, the habit of thought in his family, and
all his early influences were against divorce. The idea had not
presented itself spontaneously, as the natural solution of his domestic
difficulties; he had been obliged to familiarize himself with it. His
family had been Catholics for generations, his mother had become one on
her marriage, and had been ardent and devout, as is usual with
proselytes. Thorne was not a religious man himself, but he respected
religion, and in an abstract way considered it a beautiful and holy
thing. He had never thought of it with any reference to his own life,
but it made a halo around the memory of his mother. Her views had
influenced him in his decision in the matter of a divorce. The world
had given him credit for religious scruples of his own, but the world
had done him more than justice; he was only haunted by the ghosts of
his mother's scruples.

Thorne leaned on the fence of the field where he had first seen
Pocahontas, and went over his former experience of love. What a
miserable thing it had been, at best! How feverish, vapory and
unsatisfying! What a wretched fiasco his marriage had proved! And yet
he had loved his wife! Her beauty was of a type that insures its
possessor love of a certain sort--not the best, but strong enough to
stand the wear and tear of well-to-do existence, if only it is
returned. If Ethel had loved him, Thorne would have held to his lot,
and munched his husks, if not with relish, certainly with decency and
endurance. But Ethel did not love him.

Their marriage, from Ethel's standpoint, had been mercantile; for his
wealth and position, she had willingly bartered her youth and beauty,
and if he would have been content with face value, she would have been
content. Why should people trouble the depths of life when the surface
was so pleasant and satisfying? She liked Thorne well enough, but his
ceaseless craving for congeniality, deep affection, community of
interest, and the like, wearied, bored and baffled her. Why should
they care for the same things, cultivate similar tastes, have
corresponding aspirations? If they differed in thought and life and
expression, let them differ--it was of no consequence. She found her
husband's exactions tiresome. He had her birthright, she ha