A man like that--with his weaknesses and his temperament--which
are part of his gift really--its penalty--wants his wife at every
turn--the woman who loves him--who understands. But to desert him for
a suspicion!--a dream! Oh! Mrs. Fenwick, there are those who--who are
really starved--really forsaken--really trampled under foot--by those
they love!'

Her voice broke. She stood gazing straight before her, quivering with
the passion of recollection. Phoebe looked up--awed--remembering what
John had said, so long ago, of the unhappy marriage, the faithless and
cruel husband. But Eugenie's hand touched her again.

'And I know that you thought--_I_--had made Mr. Fenwick--forget you.
That was so strange! At that time--and for many years afterwards--my
husband was still alive. If he had sent me a word--any day--any
hour--I would have gone to him--to the ends of the world. I don't
mean--I don't pretend--that my feeling for him remained unchanged. But
my pride was--my duty was--that he should never find _me_ lacking. And
last year--he turned to me--I was able to help him--through his death.
I had been his true wife--and he knew it.'

She spoke quietly, brushing the tears from her eyes. But with the last
words, her voice wavered a little. Phoebe had bowed her head upon the
hand which held hers, and there was no spectator of the feeling in
Eugenie's face. Was her pure conscience tormented with the thought
that she had not told all, and could never tell it? Her innocent
tempting of Fenwick--as an act, partly, of piteous self-defence
against impulses of quite another quality and power--this must remain
her secret to the end. Sad evasions, which life forces upon even the
noblest worshippers of truth!

After a minute she stooped and kissed Phoebe's golden hair.

'I was so glad to help Mr. Fenwick--he interested me so. If I had only
known of you--and the child--why, how happy we might all have been!'

She withdrew her hand, and walked away to the window, trying to calm
herself.

Phoebe rose and followed her.

'Do you know?'--she said, piteously--'can't you tell me?--will John
take me back?'

Eugenie paused just a moment; then said, steadily, 'He is coming here,
because you are his wife--because he is faithful to you--because he
wants you. Don't agitate him too much! He wants resting and healing.
And so do you!' She took Phoebe's hands again in hers. 'And how do you
think anybody is to deny you anything, when you bring such a