“I haven't much faith in the soundness of this common sentiment against her,” replied Constance. “There is in it some self-righteousness, a good deal of pretended horror at her conduct, but very little real virtuous indignation. It is my opinion that eight out of ten of her old fashionable friends would be just as intimate with her as ever, though they knew all about the affair at Saratoga, if they only were in the secret. It is in order to stand well with the world that they lift their hands in pretended holy horror.” “We cannot expect people to act from any higher principles than they possess,” said I; “and it is something gained to good morals, when even those who are corrupt in heart affect to be shocked at departures from virtue in their friends.” “Yes, I can see that. Still, when I look beneath the surface, I feel that, so far as the motives are concerned, a wrong has been done; and my soul stirs with a feeling of pity towards Mrs. Dewey, and indignation against her heartless friends. Do you know, dear, that since I met her this morning, I have had serious thoughts of calling upon her?” “You!” Constance gave me one of her placid smiles in answer to my surprised ejaculation. “Yes; why not?” “What will people say?” “I can tell you what they will not say,” she replied, “Well?” “They will not say, as they do of her, that of all men, I care least for my husband.” “I am not afraid of their saying that; but--” I was a little bewildered by this unexpected thought on the part of my wife, and did not at first see the matter clear. “She has held herself very high, and quite aloof from many of her old friends,” Constance resumed. “While this was the case, I have not cared to intrude upon her; although she has been kind and polite to me whenever we happened to meet. Now, when the summer friends who courted her are dropping away like autumn leaves, a true friend may draw near and help her in the trial through which she is passing.” “Right, Constance! right!” said I, warmly. “Your clearer eyes have gone down below, the surface. Oh, yes; call upon her, and be her true friend, if she will permit you to come near enough. There can be no loss to you; there may be great gain to her. Was there any thing in her manner that encouraged you to approach?” “I think so. It was this, no doubt, that stirred the suggestion in my mind.” Constance waited a day or two, pondering the matter, and then made a call at the Allen House. “How were you received?” I asked, on meeting her. “Kindly,” she said. “But with indifference?” “No. Mrs. Dewey was surprised, I thought, but evidently pleased.” “How long did you stay?” “Only for a short time.” “What did you talk about?”