‘What! is it common gossip?’ she asked. ‘Does all the town chatter of what I, till a few days ago, was ignorant of? If so, then, alas! poor Delicia!’ Her eyes flashed suddenly. ‘Tell me, is it possible that Lord Carlyon has so far forgotten himself as to make his attentions to La Marina open and manifest, thus allowing his wife to become an object for the pity and mockery of society?’ ‘Lady Carlyon,’ replied Valdis, ‘your friends sought to warn you long ago, but you would not listen. Your own nature, pure and lofty as it is, rejected what you deemed mere scandalous rumour. You resented with the noble confidence of a true wife the least word of suspicion against Lord Carlyon. When I ventured to hint that your confidence was misplaced, you dismissed me from your presence. I do not say you were wrong; you were right. The worthy wife of a worthy husband is bound to act as you did. But suppose the husband is not worthy, and the wife deceives herself as to his merits, it is for her own sake, for her honour and her self-respect that she should be persuaded to realise the fact and take such steps as may prevent her from occupying a false position. And now you know—’ ‘Now I know,’ interrupted Delicia, with a vibrating passion in her voice, ‘what is the use of it? What am I to do? What can I do? A woman is powerless in everything which relates to her husband’s infidelity merely. I can show no bruises, no evidence of ill-treatment; then what is my complaint about? “Go home, silly woman,” says the law, “and understand that if your husband chooses to have a new love every day, you cannot get separated from him, provided he is civil to you; man has licence which woman has not.” And so on, and so on, with their eternal jargon! Paul Valdis, you can act emotions and look tragedies; but have you ever realised the depth or the terror of the dumb, dreadful dramas of a woman’s broken heart? No! I don’t think that even you, with all your fine, imaginative sympathy, can reach thus far. Do you know why I came away from home to-day and made straight for the sea,—the great, calm sea which I knew would have the gentleness to drown me if the pain became too bitter to bear? Nay, do not hold me!’ For Valdis, struck by the complete breakdown of her reserve, and the brilliant wildness of her eyes, had unconsciously caught her arm. ‘There is no danger, I assure you. I have not been given my faith in God quite vainly; and there is so much of God’s thought in the beauty of ocean, that even to contemplate it has made me quieter and stronger; I shall not burden it with my drifting body yet! But do you know, can you guess why I came here and avoided meeting my husband to-day?’ Valdis shook his head, profoundly moved himself by her strong emotion.