always against your opening the cage-door
and letting the bird go in such an obviously suicidal way. You might
have been a school inspector by this time, or a reverend, if you
hadn't been so weak about her."

"I did myself irreparable damage--I know it."

"Once you've got her housed again, stick to her."

Phillotson was more evasive to-night. He did not care to admit
clearly that his taking Sue to him again had at bottom nothing to
do with repentance of letting her go, but was, primarily, a human
instinct flying in the face of custom and profession. He said,
"Yes--I shall do that. I know woman better now. Whatever justice
there was in releasing her, there was little logic, for one holding
my views on other subjects."

Gillingham looked at him, and wondered whether it would ever happen
that the reactionary spirit induced by the world's sneers and his own
physical wishes would make Phillotson more orthodoxly cruel to her
than he had erstwhile been informally and perversely kind.

"I perceive it won't do to give way to impulse," Phillotson resumed,
feeling more and more every minute the necessity of acting up to his
position. "I flew in the face of the Church's teaching; but I did it
without malice prepense. Women are so strange in their influence
that they tempt you to misplaced kindness. However, I know myself
better now. A little judicious severity, perhaps..."

"Yes; but you must tighten the reins by degrees only. Don't be too
strenuous at first. She'll come to any terms in time."

The caution was unnecessary, though Phillotson did not say so. "I
remember what my vicar at Shaston said, when I left after the row
that was made about my agreeing to her elopement. 'The only thing
you can do to retrieve your position and hers is to admit your error
in not restraining her with a wise and strong hand, and to get her
back again if she'll come, and be firm in the future.' But I was
so headstrong at that time that I paid no heed. And that after the
divorce she should have thought of doing so I did not dream."

The gate of Mrs. Edlin's cottage clicked, and somebody began crossing
in the direction of the school. Phillotson said "Good-night."

"Oh, is that Mr. Phillotson," said Mrs. Edlin. "I was going over
to see 'ee. I've been upstairs with her, helping her to unpack her
things; and upon my word, sir, I don't think this ought to be!"

"What--the wedding?"

"Yes. She's forcing herself to it, poor de