aditional
view of her act. In looking back, and correcting her survey of his
character in the revealing light of the last hours, she perceived that,
like many men of emancipated thought, he had remained subject to the old
conventions of feeling. And he had probably never given much thought to
women till he met her--had always been content to deal with them in the
accepted currency of sentiment. After all, it was the currency they
liked best, and for which they offered their prettiest wares!

But what of the intellectual accord between himself and her? She had not
been deceived in that! He and she had really been wedded in mind as well
as in heart. But until now there had not arisen in their lives one of
those searching questions which call into play emotions rooted far below
reason and judgment, in the dark primal depths of inherited feeling. It
is easy to judge impersonal problems intellectually, turning on them the
full light of acquired knowledge; but too often one must still grope
one's way through the personal difficulty by the dim taper carried in
long-dead hands....

But was there then no hope of lifting one's individual life to a clearer
height of conduct? Must one be content to think for the race, and to
feel only--feel blindly and incoherently--for one's self? And was it not
from such natures as Amherst's--natures in which independence of
judgment was blent with strong human sympathy--that the liberating
impulse should come?

Her mind grew weary of revolving in this vain circle of questions. The
fact was that, in their particular case, Amherst had not risen above
prejudice and emotion; that, though her act was one to which his
intellectual sanction was given, he had turned from her with instinctive
repugnance, had dishonoured her by the most wounding suspicions. The
tie between them was forever stained and debased.

Justine's long hospital-discipline made it impossible for her to lose
consciousness of the lapse of time, or to let her misery thicken into
mental stupor. She could not help thinking and moving; and she presently
lifted herself to her feet, turned on the light, and began to prepare
for dinner. It would be terrible to face her husband across Mr.
Langhope's pretty dinner-table, and afterward in the charming
drawing-room, with its delicate old ornaments and intimate luxurious
furniture; but she could not continue to sit motionless in the dark: it
was her innermost instinct to pick herself up and g