"I did not desert you. I merely took rooms down town, leaving you in sole possession of the house until you should come to your senses.... You did not believe that I had deserted you; but you wanted to make me beg pardon and come back as if I had been to blame." "And so you _were_ to blame! The Court has decided that, and granted me my divorce." "And has your divorce, then, made you happy? Would you have filed your petition, if you had expected to have it granted? You thought I would have come and prayed you to withdraw it. I let you take your course. Was I wrong?" "You knew you had no defence--had no case to plead--that I was right. You let judgment go by default." "Did you imagine that I would plead?--have all our little altercations, which would have sounded so pitiful in Court, raked out and exposed before a crew of newspaper reporters, to be read and chuckled over by the people going home in the tram-cars? Did you imagine that I would attempt to keep you bound, if you wanted to break loose from the marriage tie? I would not have you, if I could, against your will." "You are very magnanimous, and I--of course I am the opposite--everything bad, and frivolous, and foolish. I wonder you should have troubled yourself to address against her will so poor a creature." "I have been waiting here all these days, Rose, in hopes of getting speech of you. You are not bad, or frivolous, or foolish. You are the only woman I have ever cared for, or ever shall. We have been--not very wise, shall I call it?--headstrong and obstinate, and neither would give in; and both, if I may venture to say it, have been miserable in consequence. Forget and forgive, Rose. Let's try again, begin the game anew, and profit by sad experience. It is for that I have been waiting here--to prevent this marriage of yours, if the people say true, which will make both you and me miserable for ever." "You are kind; but do you not exaggerate? My marriage at least will not leave you inconsolable. You have secured the consoler already. I wish you joy of her. May she make you as happy as you deserve, and----" But here, to her own astonishment--for Rose had felt proud of her bravery and calmness throughout the interview--there came a spasm in her throat, which choked her utterance. The corners of her mouth began to droop, and her eyes sought the ground. "Do you mean Maida Springer? This is worse than Horatia Simpkins! I am sure I have not flirted with Maida. Come, if you like, and ask her; she is sitting under that tree. She is an acquaintance of very old standing; that is all. She taught my uncle's children long ago, when I was a lad. We saw each other constantly when I was home from Harvard at the vacation. But there is nothing between us--never was. Come, ask her yourself. She is sitting behind this nearest tree: she will be the first to wish us joy."