pel you to do anything you didn't want to do, Lucy.
Trust him for that."

"I don't know. He's so different from the way he used to be.
Sometimes I'm afraid. Sometimes I am afraid to be alone in the same
house with him. If I didn't have you to back me up, and give me
strength I'd--but it can't last long. I know it can't. And I don't
know that it's worth trying."

"You are still fond of him, Lucy?"

"And sorry for him, Oh, so sorry. But fondness and sorrow aren't
everything."

"It will be better when he has the new contract to occupy him, and keep
him away. It won't be an all-day affair then. And all the time you
and I'll be meeting to talk things over, and borrow strength to go on
with. It isn't easy for me either, dear. And of course, if after
trial we find it won't work, why then it will be our duty to ourselves
to cut the Gordian knot."

She turned toward me and we looked into each other's eyes for a long
time.

"I've given him all I can," she said. "It isn't enough. It never will
be enough. Oh, if there are knots to be cut, let's cut 'em and have
done with it."

I dropped my reins, and leaning wide, took her in my arms and kissed
her many times.

"We are romantic children," I said, "to think that there could be any
other way. God bless you, my darling, we'll cut all the knots, and
begin life all over again, and always be together."

She became then wonderfully cheerful and excited, and riding always at
a walk, no longer on roads, but through the deep woods, we made our
plans for the future.

Nothing was to be said to John until we were in a bigger place than
Aiken. The bigger the place the smaller the scandal. I offered (with
grave misgivings) to do the telling; but Lucy would not have it so.
"It's his right," she said, "to know from me." John having been told,
would, we felt sure from what we knew of his character, be willing to
do the right thing. It wasn't as if he had been dishonored in any way.
He would even be grateful to us for having been strong-minded and
aboveboard. It would hurt him terribly. Yes, but a sudden final hurt
was better than the lingering sickness from which he was now suffering.
There would, of course, be no question of alimony. My father, much as
he might disapprove of the whole affair, was not only fond of me, but
fond of Lucy, and he would see us through.

It would take a long while to get a divorce. That was the darkest
cloud on the horizon. But we mu