lowed it; because I thought it wrong to subject your
future life to the poverty which I should have brought with me. Do you
think there was no sacrifice then?"

"But, Adelaide;--it is so."

"Yes, it is so. But what does it all mean? The time is gone by when
men, or women either, were too qualmish and too queasy to admit the
truth even to themselves. Of course you are married, and so am I; but
marriage does not alter the heart. I did not cease to love you because
I would not marry you. You could not cease to love me merely because I
refused you. When I acknowledged to myself that Mr. Houghton's income
was necessary to me, I did not become enamoured of him. Nor I suppose
did you when you found the same as to Miss Lovelace's money."

Upon this he also jumped up from his seat, and stood before her. "I
will not have even you say that I married my wife for her money."

"How was it then, George? I am not blaming you for doing what I did as
well as you."

"I should blame myself. I should feel myself to be degraded."

"Why so? It seems to me that I am bolder than you. I can look the
cruelties of the world in the face, and declare openly how I will meet
them. I did marry Mr. Houghton for his money, and of course he knew it.
Is it to be supposed that he or any human being could have thought that
I married him for love? I make his house comfortable for him as far as
I can, and am civil to his friends, and look my best at his table. I
hope he is satisfied with his bargain; but I cannot do more. I cannot
wear him in my heart. Nor, George, do I believe that you in your heart
can ever wear Mary Lovelace!" But he did,--only that he thought that he
had space there for two, and that in giving habitation to this second
love he was adding at any rate to the excitements of his life. "Tell
me, George," said the woman, laying her hand upon his breast, "is it
she or I that have a home there?"

"I will not say that I do not love my wife," he said.

"No; you are afraid. The formalities of the world are so much more to
you than to me! Sit down, George. Oh, George!" Then she was on her
knees at his feet, hiding her face upon her hands, while his arms were
almost necessarily thrown over her and embracing her. The lady was
convulsed with sobs, and he was thinking how it would be with him and
her should the door be opened and some pair of eyes see them as they
were. But her ears were sharp in spite of her sobs. There was the fall
of a foot on