“Freedom is a fool’s dream. I am free. I can divorce you if I please: if I live with you again it will be by my own choice. You are free too: you have burnt your boats, and are rid of fashionable society, of your family, your position, your principles, and all the rest of your chains forever. You are declassed by your own act; and if you can frankly give a sigh of relief and respect yourself for breaking loose from what is called your duty, then you are the very woman I want for a wife. I may not be the very man you want for a husband; but at all events you are free to choose, free to change after you choose if you choose me, free anyhow; for I will divorce you if you refuse; and then you will be—independent—your own mistress—absolute proprietor of your own child—everything that married women and girls envy. You have a foretaste of that freedom now. What is it worth? One or two conditions more or less to comply with, that is all: nature and society still have you hard and fast; the main rules of the game are inviolable.” “I think it is a good thing to be free,” said Marian, timidly. “That means ‘I will not.’” “Not ‘will not’; but I think I had better not.” “A characteristic distinction, Marian. I once thought, like you, that freedom was the one condition to be gained at all cost and hazard. My favorite psalm was that nonsense of John Hay’s: ‘For always in thine eyes, O Liberty, Shines that high light whereby the world is saved; And though thou slay us, we will trust in thee.’ And she does slay us. Now I am for the fullest attainable life. That involves the least endurable liberty. You dont see that yet. Very well: you have liberty—liberty to hurt as well as help yourself; and you are right to try whether it will not make you happier than wedlock has done.” “It was not your fault; and it is very good of you to offer to take me back, I know. Will my refusing disappoint you at all, Ned?” “I am prepared for it. You may refuse or accept: I foresee how I shall adapt myself to either set of circumstances.” “Yes, I forgot. You foresee everything,” said Marian, with some bitterness. “No: I only face what I see. That is why you do not like living with me. Good-bye. Do not look troubled: we shall meet again to-morrow and often afterward, I hope; but to-night makes an end of the irrational knot.” “Good-night,” said Marian rather forlornly, after a pause, proffering her hand. “One folly more,” he said, taking her in his arms and kissing her. She made no resistance. “If such a moment could be eternal, we should never say good-bye,” he added. “As it is, we are wise not to tempt Fortune by asking her for such another.” “You are too wise, Ned,” she said, suffering him to replace her gently in the chair. “It is impossible to be too wise, dearest,” he said, and unhesitatingly turned and left her.