ed him with any feeling that was an offence
to her husband. She would have hated herself had any such idea
presented itself to her mind. She prided herself on being a pure
high-principled woman, who had kept so strong a guard upon herself as
to be nearly free from the dangers of those rocks upon which other
women made shipwreck of their happiness. She took pride in this, and
would then blame herself for her own pride. But though she so blamed
herself, it never occurred to her to think that to her there might be
danger of such shipwreck. She had put away from herself the idea of
love when she had first perceived that Phineas had regarded her with
more than friendship, and had accepted Mr. Kennedy's offer with an
assured conviction that by doing so she was acting best for her own
happiness and for that of all those concerned. She had felt the
romance of the position to be sweet when Phineas had stood with her
at the top of the falls of the Linter, and had told her of the hopes
which he had dared to indulge. And when at the bottom of the falls he
had presumed to take her in his arms, she had forgiven him without
difficulty to herself, telling herself that that would be the alpha
and the omega of the romance of her life. She had not felt herself
bound to tell Mr. Kennedy of what had occurred,--but she had felt
that he could hardly have been angry even had he been told. And she
had often thought of her lover since, and of his love,--telling
herself that she too had once had a lover, never regarding her
husband in that light; but her thoughts had not frightened her as
guilty thoughts will do. There had come a romance which had been
pleasant, and it was gone. It had been soon banished,--but it
had left to her a sweet flavour, of which she loved to taste the
sweetness though she knew that it was gone. And the man should be her
friend, but especially her husband's friend. It should be her care to
see that his life was successful,--and especially her husband's care.
It was a great delight to her to know that her husband liked the man.
And the man would marry, and the man's wife should be her friend. All
this had been very pure and very pleasant. Now an idea had flitted
across her brain that the man was in love with some one else,--and
she did not like it!

But she did not therefore become afraid of herself, or in the least
realise at once the danger of her own position. Her immediate glance
at the matter did not go beyond the fa