“Of the naturalness of his love I say nothing--perhaps, nothing could be more natural. But that he does love her, and loves her as no married woman should be loved, by another than her husband, is clear enough.” “Suppose, then, it be as you say! So long as he does nothing improperly, there is nothing to be said. There is no evil.” “Ah, but there is evil. There is danger.” “How? I do not see.” “Suppose your wife makes the same discovery which other persons have made? Suppose she finds out that Edgerton loves her?” “Well--what then?” “She can not remain uninfluenced by it. It will affect her feelings sensibly in some way. No creature in the world can remain insensible to the attachment of another.” “Indeed! Why, agreeable to that doctrine, there could be no security from principle. There could be no virtue certain--nay, not even love.” “Do not mistake me. When I say SHE would be influenced--I do not mean to say that she would be so influenced as to requite the illicit sentiment. Far from it. But she must pity or she must scorn. She may despise or she may deplore. In either case her feelings would be aroused, and in either case would produce uneasiness if not unhappiness. I KNOW, Clifford, that your wife perceives the passion of Edgerton--I am confident, also, that it has influenced her feelings. What may be the sentiment produced by this influence I do not pretend to say. I would not insinuate that it is more than would be natural to the breast of any virtuous woman. She may pity or she may scorn--she may despise or she may deplore. I know not. But, in either case, I regard your bringing Edgerton into the house and conferring upon him so many opportunities, as being calculated either to make yourself or your wife miserable. In either event you have done wrong. Look to it--remedy it as soon as you can.” My face burned like fire. My eyes were fixed upon the table. I dared not look upon my companion. When I spoke, I felt a choking difficulty in my utterance which compelled me to speak loud to be understood, and which yet left my speech thick, husky, and unnatural. “Say no more, Kingsley. What you have said disturbs me Nay, I acknowledge, I have been disturbed before. Perhaps, indeed, I know more than yourself. Time will show. At all events, be sure of one thing. These opportunities, if what you say be true, afford an ordeal through which it is necessary that the parties should now go--if it be only to afford the necessary degree of relief to my mind. Enough has been seen to excite suspicion--enough has been done, you yourself think, to awaken the feelings of my wife. Those feelings must now be tried. Opportunity will do this. She must go through the trial. I am not blind as you suppose. Nay, I am watchful, and I tell you, Kingsley, that the time approaches when all my doubts must cease one way or the other.” “But I still think, Clifford--” he began.