do you mean, Clara? Don't you see that his being in love with her when she was another man's wife is what he feels it to be,—an indelible stain?"
"She never knew it; and no one ever knew it but you. You said it was our deeds that judged us. Didn't Ben go away when he realized his feeling for her?"
"He came back."
"But he did everything he could to find that poor wretch, and he tried to prevent the divorce. Ben is morbid about it; but there is no use in our being so."
"There was a time when he would have been glad to profit by a divorce."
"But he never did. You said the will didn't count. And now she is a widow, and any man may ask her to marry him."
"Any man but the one who loved her during her husband's life. That is, if he is such a man as Halleck. Of course it isn't a question of gross black and white, mere right and wrong; there are degrees, there are shades. There might be redemption for another sort of man in such a marriage; but for Halleck there could only be loss,—deterioration,—lapse from the ideal. I should think that he might suffer something of this even in her eyes—"
"Oh, how hard you are! I wish Ben hadn't asked your advice. Why, you are worse than, he is! You're not going to write that to him?"
Atherton flung the letter upon the table, and drew a troubled sigh. "Ah, I don't know! I don't know!"
A PAIR OF PATIENT LOVERS
