The other laughed and made an effort to shake off his gloom; but with so little success that his guest resolved to escape at the earliest moment possible. Something in Fenton's forced talk, however, attracted Dr. Ashton's attention. "My wife was a pupil of Frontier." The simple phrase, which had escaped Arthur's lips because it had been in his mind not to allude to this fact, might have gone unnoticed had not the speaker himself so strongly felt the shock of disclosure as to show sudden confusion. The whole matter was at once clear to Dr. Ashton, who having recognized Edith at the reception, had been prepared for identification in his own turn. "So that," he observed calmly, "is the reason Mrs. Fenton does not dine with us to-night. I knew she was sure to recognize me sooner or later; but as I had no motive for concealing this matter, on the other hand I had no reason for recalling so unpleasant a circumstance to her mind." There was a pause of a moment, and then the Doctor continued: "I think Frontier was rather foolish. I told him so. A charming little Hungarian girl of whom he was fond, had left him to follow the fortunes of a Polish Count, or something of the sort. I do not see why a man should kill himself for so trifling a thing as a woman; but if he chose to, I am not one of those officious persons who feel justified in interfering with any private act they don't happen to approve. I certainly should resent such impertinent intrusion into my own affairs." "And I," assented Arthur doggedly; "but my wife----" "Certainly; I understand. Mrs. Fenton says hard things of me because I would not rob poor Frontier of what little comfort he could get from dying. Very well; I will not offend her by my presence. Only she is setting herself a hard task in attempting to treat people according to their conservatism. In these days the sheep and goats have come to be so much alike in appearance, that I scarcely see how a mere mortal is to distinguish between them. My own case I settle for her by avoiding her house." "But this is my house," protested Arthur, intensely chagrined. "No," his guest replied, still smiling and moving toward the door. "It is the nest you have built for your love and your--regeneration! Good night." XXVI. THERE BEGINS CONFUSION. I Henry VI.; iv.--i. Alone in her own room, Edith relieved her overwrought feelings by a burst of tears, brief, indeed, but bitter. Like her husband, she felt that this incident, although not assuming the guise of a quarrel, was an opening wedge in the unity of their affection. Unlike Arthur, however, she thought of it with self-reproach and misgiving. She did not for an instant consider the possibility of having taken a different position in regard to Dr. Ashton, yet in a womanly, illogical way, she felt that she should have learned her husband's wishes before so vehemently declaring her own views.