e.

"It was to give his wife pleasure that Anson made the false step," I
urged.

"Do you think she would have had the pleasure at the price? The man was
vain and selfish to run any risk, to do anything that might endanger her
safety--that is, her happiness and comfort."

"But suppose he knew that she loved ease and pleasure?--that he feared
her anger or disdain if he did not minister to her luxuries?"

"Then he ought not to have married that kind of a woman." The hardness
in her voice was matched at that moment by the coldness of her face.

"That is begging the question," I replied. "What would such a selfish
woman do in such a case, if her pleasure could not be gratified?"

"You must ask that kind of woman," was her ironical answer.

I rashly felt that her castle of strength was crumbling. I ventured
farther.

"I have done so."

She turned slightly toward me, yet not nervously, as I had expected.

"What did she say?"

"She declined to answer directly."

There was a pause, in which I felt her eyes searching my face. I fear I
must have learned dissimulation well; for, after a minute, I looked
at her, and saw, from the absence of any curious anxiety, that I had
betrayed nothing. She looked me straight in the eyes and said: "Dr.
Marmion, a man must not expect to be forgiven, who has brought shame on
a woman."

"Not even when he has repented and atoned?"

"Atoned! How mad you are! How can there be atonement? You cannot wipe
things out--on earth. We are of the earth. Records remain. If a man
plays the fool, the coward, and the criminal, he must expect to wear the
fool's cap, the white feather, and the leg-chain until his life's end.
And now, please, let us change the subject. We have been bookish long
enough." She rose with a gesture of impatience.

I did not rise. "Pardon me, Mrs. Falchion," I urged, "but this interests
me so. I have thought much of Anson lately. Please, let us talk a little
longer. Do sit down."

She sat down again with an air of concession rather than of pleasure.

"I am interested," I said, "in looking at this question from a woman's
standpoint. You see, I am apt to side with the miserable fellow who
made a false step--foolish, if you like--all for love of a selfish and
beautiful woman."

"She was beautiful?"

"Yes, as you are." She did not blush at that rank compliment, any more
than a lioness would, if you praised the astonishing sleekness and
beauty of its skin.

"And she ha