tory embittered her lot to the last
point of endurance. Before marriage, her love-ideal had been very
vague, elusive; it found scarcely more than negative expression, as a
shrinking from the vulgar or gross desires of her companions in the
shop. Now that she had a clearer understanding of her own nature, the
type of man correspondent to her natural sympathies also became clear.
In every particular he was unlike her husband. She found a suggestion
of him in books; and in actual life, already, perhaps something more
than a suggestion. Widdowson's jealousy, in so far as it directed
itself against her longing for freedom, was fully justified; this
consciousness often made her sullen when she desired to express a
nobler indignation; but his special prejudice led him altogether
astray, and in free resistance on this point she found the relief which
enabled her to bear a secret self-reproach. Her refusal to repeat the
substance of Barfoot's conversation was, in some degree, prompted by a
wish for the continuance of his groundless fears. By persevering in
suspicion of Barfoot, he afforded her a firm foothold in their
ever-renewed quarrels.

A husband's misdirected jealousy excites in the wife derision and a
sense of superiority; more often than not, it fosters an unsuspected
attachment, prompts to a perverse pleasure in misleading. Monica became
aware of this; in her hours of misery she now and then gave a harsh
laugh, the result of thoughts not seriously entertained, but tempting
the fancy to recklessness. What, she asked herself again, would be the
end of it all? Ten years hence, would she have subdued her soul to a
life of weary insignificance, if not of dishonour? For it was dishonour
to live with a man she could not love, whether her heart cherished
another image or was merely vacant. A dishonour to which innumerable
women submitted, a dishonour glorified by social precept, enforced
under dread penalties.

But she was so young, and life abounds in unexpected changes.

CHAPTER XX

THE FIRST LIE

Mrs. Cosgrove was a childless widow, with sufficient means and a very
mixed multitude of acquaintances. In the general belief her marriage
had been a happy one; when she spoke of her deceased husband it was
with respect, and not seldom with affection. Yet her views on the
matrimonial relation were known to be of singular audacity. She
revealed them only to a small circle of intimates; most of the people
who frequented