Edgar knew Clare too well to believe that when the marriage ceremony should be repeated between her husband and herself--which was the next step to be taken--their life would simply flow on again in the same channel, as if this tragical interruption to its course had never occurred. This was what Arthur Arden fondly pictured to himself, and a great many floating intentions of being a better husband, and a better man, after the salvation which had suddenly come to him, in the very moment of his need, were in his mind, softening the man imperceptibly by their influence. But Edgar did not hope for this; he made as little answer as he could to Arthur’s anticipations of the future, to his remorseful desire to be friendly. “After it’s all over you must not drift out of sight again,--you must come to us when you can,” Arden said. “You’ve always behaved like a brick in all circumstances; I see it now. You’ve been my best friend in this terrible business. I wish I may never have a happy hour if I ever think otherwise of you than as Clare’s brother again.” All this Edgar did his best to respond to, but he could not but feel that Arden’s hopes were fallacies. Clare had given him no insight into her plans, perhaps, even, had not formed any. She had gone back into the house at Edgar’s bidding; she had dully accepted the fact that the situation was altered, and consented to the private repetition of her marriage; but she had never looked at her husband, never addressed him; and Edgar felt, with a shudder, that, though she would accept such atonement as was possible, she was far, very far, from having arrived at the state of mind which could forgive the injury. That a woman so deeply outraged should continue tranquilly the life she had lived before she was aware of the outrage, was, he felt, impossible. He had done what he could to moderate Arden’s expectations on this point, but with no effect; and, as he did not really know, but merely feared, some proceeding on Clare’s part which should shatter the expected happiness of the future, he held his peace, transferring, almost involuntarily, a certain share of his sympathy to the guilty man, whose guilt was not to escape retribution.