re was danger?"

"Because he had the courage to trust his happiness under fire."

"That implies that until now--at least--he was in doubt."

"Grave doubt. I think he was almost ready to call it all a failure."

After a long silence Stuart Farquaharson spoke with a quiet of
resolution which held more feeling than could have been voiced by
vehemence.

"You have told me enough, Conscience. I will _not_ go. _You_ have tried
it with a desperate sincerity for three years--and it's a failure. You
have fought splendidly to vindicate the whole monstrous travesty, but it
can't be vindicated. It was doomed by every law of nature from the
start. We have now not only the right but the duty to rectify it, and to
rectify it together. You must divorce him."

"Divorce him!" The woman came to her feet and her eyes were starry with
a light that held a momentary flicker of scorn. "Divorce him when his
whole married life has been dedicated to the single purpose of trying to
make me happy ... when his only fault is that he has failed to interest
me?... Divorce him because we find too late that we still love each
other? If that is your only counsel, Stuart, you have nothing to
offer--but treason!"

"Conscience," he reminded her as a deep flush spread over the face that
had been pale, "so long as there remained a chance for you to succeed, I
made no suggestion that might unsettle you. My love for you has never
changed or wavered. It has incalculably grown. But, until to-night, have
I in any manner assumed the guise or asked the prerogatives of a lover?"

"Until to-night," she retorted, "I've never appealed to you for help.
Now I tell you of fires I'm trying to control--and you are only setting
matches to them."

"I am begging you to conquer this undertow of your heredity, and to see
things as they are, without any spirit of false martyrdom. I am calling
upon you to rouse yourself out of this fanatic trance--and to live! By
your own confession you love me in every way that a woman of flaming
inner fires can love. Under all your glacial reserve and perfect
propriety you have deeps of passion--and you know that _he_ can never
stir them. You say you will conquer this love for me. Have you overcome
it in these three years? What has this travesty of a hopeless marriage
given you, but a pallid existence of curbed emotions and a stifled
life?"

He had begun speaking with a forced calmness that gave a monotony to his
voice, but the sincerit