another word he rose a little, leaned
over her, and kissed her passionately. She never knew what his real
history during the last year or two had been. He outlived her, and one
of his sorrows when she was lying in the grave was that he had told her
nothing. He was wrong to be silent. A man with any self-respect will
not be anxious to confess his sins, save when reparation is due to
others. If he be completely ashamed of them he will hold his tongue
about them. But the perfect wife may know them. She will not love him
the less: he will love her the more as the possessor of his secrets, and
the consciousness of her knowledge of him and of them will strengthen and
often, perhaps, save him.

CHAPTER XX

Mrs. Cardew recovered, but Dr. Turnbull recommended that as soon as she
could be moved she should have an entire change, and at the end of the
autumn she and her husband went abroad.

That winter was a bad winter for Mr. Furze. The harvest had been the
worst known for years: farmers had no money; his expenses had increased;
many of his customers had left him, and Catharine's cough had become so
much worse that, except on fine days, she was not allowed to go out of
doors. For the first time in his life he was obliged to overdraw his
account at the bank, and when his wife questioned him about his troubles
he became angry and vicious. One afternoon he had a visit from one of
the partners in the bank, who politely informed him that no further
advances could be made. It was near Christmas, and it was Mr. Furze's
practice at Christmas to take stock. He set to work, and his balance-
sheet showed that he was a poorer man by three hundred pounds than he was
a twelvemonth before. Catharine did not see him on the night on which he
made this discovery. He came home very late, and she had gone to bed. At
breakfast he was unlike himself--strange, excited, and with a hunted,
terrified look in the eyes which alarmed her. It was not so much the
actual loss which upset him as the old incapacity of dealing with the
unusual. Oh, for one hour with Tom! What should he do? Should he
retrench? Should he leave the Terrace? Should he try and borrow money?
A dizzy whirl of a dozen projects swung round and round in his brain, and
he could resolve on nothing. He pictured most vividly and imagined most
vividly the consequences of bankruptcy. His intellectual activity in
that direction was amazing, and if one-tenth part of