e
detected a shade of disappointment in his tone, and was sorry she had
said anything which might seem meant to discourage his confidence. It
occurred to her also that she had been insincere in not telling him at
once that she had already been let into the secret of his domestic
differences: she felt the same craving as Amherst for absolute openness
between them.

"I know," she said, almost timidly, "that Bessy has not been quite
content of late to have you give so much time to Westmore, and perhaps
she herself thinks it is because the work there does not interest her;
but I believe it is for a different reason."

"What reason?" he asked with a look of surprise.

"Because Westmore takes you from her; because she thinks you are happier
there than at Lynbrook."

The day had faded so rapidly that it was no longer possible for the
speakers to see each other's faces, and it was easier for both to
communicate through the veil of deepening obscurity.

"But, good heavens, she might be there with me--she's as much needed
there as I am!" Amherst exclaimed.

"Yes; but you must remember that it's against all her habits--and
against the point of view of every one about her--that she should lead
that kind of life; and meanwhile----"

"Well?"

"Meanwhile, isn't it expedient that you should, a little more, lead
hers?"

Always the same answer to his restless questioning! His mother's answer,
the answer of Bessy and her friends. He had somehow hoped that the girl
at his side would find a different solution to the problem, and his
disappointment escaped in a bitter exclamation.

"But Westmore is my life--hers too, if she knew it! I can't desert it
now without being as false to her as to myself!"

As he spoke, he was overcome once more by the hopelessness of trying to
put his case clearly. How could Justine, for all her quickness and
sympathy, understand a situation of which the deeper elements were
necessarily unknown to her? The advice she gave him was natural enough,
and on her lips it seemed not the counsel of a shallow expediency, but
the plea of compassion and understanding. But she knew nothing of the
long struggle for mutual adjustment which had culminated in this crisis
between himself and his wife, and she could therefore not see that, if
he yielded his point, and gave up his work at Westmore, the concession
would mean not renewal but destruction. He felt that he should hate
Bessy if he won her back at that price;