jealousy and a furious quarrel. You have always lived among
ladies. Surely you ought to know that a wife in my position, who
respects herself, restrains herself. I try to remember what I owe
to others as well as what they owe to me."

She approached the writing table, and took up a pen.

Feeling his position acutely, Linley refrained from openly
admiring her generosity. Until he had deserved to be forgiven, he
had forfeited the right to express an opinion on her conduct. She
misinterpreted his silence. As she understood it, he appreciated
an act of self-sacrifice on Miss Westerfield's side--but he had
no word of encouragement for an act of self-sacrifice on his
wife's side. She threw down the pen, with the first outbreak of
anger that had escaped her yet.

"You have spoken for the governess," she said to him. "I haven't
heard yet, sir, what you have to say for yourself. Is it you who
tempted her? You know how gratefully she feels toward you--have
you perverted her gratitude, and led her blindfold to love?
Cruel, cruel, cruel! Defend yourself if you can."

He made no reply.

"Is it not worth your while to defend yourself?" she burst out,
passionately. "Your silence is an insult!"

"My silence is a confession," he answered, sadly. "_She_ may
accept your mercy--I may not even hope for it."