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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"The Morals of Marcus Ordeyne : a Novel"

The haggard expression had given
place to one of resignation. I wheeled an arm-chair close to the
fire, for she was cold, and she sank into it with a sigh of
weariness. I knelt beside her. She drew off her gloves and put
one hand on my head in the old way. The touch brought me great
comfort. I thought that we had reached the quiet haven at last.
"So you have come to me, Judith," I whispered.
"I have come, dear," she said, "to tell you that I can't come."
My heart sank.
"Why?" I asked.
We fenced a little. She gave half reasons, womanlike, of which I
proved the inadequacy. I recapitulated the arguments I had used
in my letter. She met them with hints and vague allusions. At
last she cut the knot.
"I am going back to my husband."
I rose to my feet and echud the words. She repeated them in a
tone so mournfully distinct, that they had the finality of a
death-knell. I had nothing to say.
"Before we part I must make my peace with you, Marcus," she said.
"I have suddenly developed a conscience.


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