my own heart," I answered, "I should never leave
him again."

Mrs. Macallan looked at me in grave surprise.

"What else have you to consult?" she asked.

"If we both live," I replied, "I have to think of the happiness of his
life and the happiness of mine in the years that are to come. I can bear
a great deal, mother, but I cannot endure the misery of his leaving me
for the second time."

"You wrong him, Valeria--I firmly believe you wrong him--in thinking it
possible that he can leave you again."

"Dear Mrs. Macallan, have you forgotten already what we have both heard
him say of me while we have been sitting by his bedside?"

"We have heard the ravings of a man in delirium. It is surely hard
to hold Eustace responsible for what he said when he was out of his
senses."

"It is harder still," I said, "to resist his mother when she is pleading
for him. Dearest and best of friends! I don't hold Eustace responsible
for what he said in the fever--but I _do_ take warning by it. The
wildest words that fell from him were, one and all, the faithful echo of
what he said to me in the best days of his health and his strength. What
hope have I that he will recover with an altered mind toward me? Absence
has not changed it; suffering has not changed it. In the delirium
of fever, and in the full possession of his reason, he has the same
dreadful doubt of me. I see but one way of winning him back: I must
destroy at its root his motive for leaving me. It is hopeless to
persuade him that I believe in his innocence: I must show him that
belief is no longer necessary; I must prove to him that his position
toward me has become the position of an innocent man!"

"Valeria! Valeria! you are wasting time and words. You have tried the
experiment; and you know as well as I do that the thing is not to be
done."

I had no answer to that. I could say no more than I had said already.

"Suppose you go back to Dexter, out of sheer compassion for a mad
and miserable wretch who has already insulted you," proceeded my
mother-in-law. "You can only go back accompanied by me, or by some
other trustworthy person. You can only stay long enough to humor the
creature's wayward fancy, and to keep his crazy brain quiet for a time.
That done, all is done--you leave him. Even supposing Dexter to be still
capable of helping you, how can you make use of him but by admitting him
to terms of confidence and familiarity--by treating him, in short, on
the foot