burst out, angrily, that she wasn't doing this for "pleasure";
she was doing it for principle! It was for the salvation
of her soul!

"Athalia," he said, solemnly, "the salvation of our souls depends
on doing our duty."

"Ah!" she broke in, triumphantly, "out of your own lips:--
isn't it my duty to do what seems to me right?"

He considered a minute. "Well, yes; I suppose the most valuable
example any one can set is to do what he or she believes
to be right. It may be wrong, but that is not the point.
We must do what we conceive to be our duty. Only, we've got
to be sure, Tay, in deciding upon duty, in deciding what is right,--
we've got to be sure that self-interest is eliminated.
I don't believe anybody can decide absolutely on what is right
without eliminating self."

She frowned at this impatiently; its perfect fairness meant
nothing to her.

"You promised to be my wife," he went on with a curious sternness; "it is
obviously 'right,' and so it is your first duty to keep your promise--
at least, so long as my conduct does not absolve you from it."
Then he added, hastily, with careful justice: "Of course, I'm not talking
about promises to love; they are nonsense. Nobody can promise to love.
Promises to do our duty are all that count."

That was the only reproach he made--if it was a reproach--