l! His success had not lessened my love. Though then I could have
no hope,--though you were utterly removed from me,--all that could
not change me. There it was,--as though my arm or my leg had been
taken from me. It was bad to live without an arm or leg, but there
was no help. I went on with my life and tried not to look like a
whipped cur;--though John from time to time would tell me that I
failed. But now;--now that it has again all changed,--what would you
have me do now? It may be that after all my limb may be restored
to me, that I may be again as other men are, whole, and sound, and
happy;--so happy! When it may possibly be within my reach am I not to
look for my happiness?" He paused, but she wept on without speaking a
word. "There are those who will say that I should wait till all these
signs of woe have been laid aside. But why should I wait? There has
come a great blot upon your life, and is it not well that it should
be covered as quickly as possible?"

"It can never be covered."

"You mean that it can never be forgotten. No doubt there are
passages in our life which we cannot forget, though we bury them
in the deepest silence. All this can never be driven out of your
memory,--nor from mine. But it need not therefore blacken all our
lives. In such a condition we should not be ruled by what the world
thinks."

"Not at all. I care nothing for what the world thinks. I am below all
that. It is what I think: I myself,--of myself."

"Will you think of no one else? Are any of your thoughts for me,--or
for your father?"

"Oh, yes;--for my father."

"I need hardly tell you what he wishes. You must know how you can
best give him back the comfort he has lost."

"But, Arthur, even for him I cannot do everything."

"There is one question to be asked," he said, rising from her feet
and standing before her;--"but one; and what you do should depend
entirely on the answer which you may be able truly to make to that."

This he said so solemnly that he startled her.

"What question, Arthur?"

"Do you love me?" To this question at the moment she could make no
reply. "Of course I know that you did not love me when you married
him."

"Love is not all of one kind."

"You know what love I mean. You did not love me then. You could
not have loved me,--though, perhaps, I thought I had deserved your
love. But love will change, and memory will sometimes bring back old
fancies when the world has been stern and hard. Whe