for his betrayed love. It was just as well. Discussion on this
subject between husbands and wives is always futile. Nothing was
ever accomplished by it; and yet, in spite of the verdict of time
and experience that nothing is gained, over and over the jealous man,
and still more frequently the jealous woman, protests against a lost love
with a bitterness that kills pity and turns remorse into antagonism.
But Lewis Hall made no reproaches. Perhaps Athalia missed them;
perhaps, under her spiritual passion, she was piqued that earthly
passion was so readily silenced. But, if she was, she did not know it.
She was entirely sincere and intensely happy in a new experience.
It was a long winter of argument;--and then suddenly, in early April,
the break came. . . .

"I WILL go; I have a right to save my soul!"

And he said, very simply, "Well, Athalia, then I'll go, too."

"You? But you don't believe--" And almost in the Bible words he answered
her, "No; but where you go, I will go; where you live, I will live."
And then, a moment later, "I promised to cleave to you, little Tay."




II

THE uprooting of their life took a surprisingly short time.
In all those dark months of argument Lewis Hall had been quietly
making plans for this final step, and such preparation betrayed
his knowledge from the first of the hopelessness of his struggle--