platitudes.

"It seems to me," the elder lady continued, "that there is only one point
from which we ought to consider the question--and that is, its effect on
Denis. But for that we ought to refuse to know anything about it. But it
has made my boy so unhappy. The law-suit was a cruel ordeal to him--the
dreadful notoriety, the revelation of poor Arthur's infirmities. Denis is
as sensitive as a woman; it is his unusual refinement of feeling that makes
him so worthy of being loved by you. But such sensitiveness may be carried
to excess. He ought not to let this unhappy incident prey on him: it shows
a lack of trust in the divine ordering of things. That is what troubles
me: his faith in life has been shaken. And--you must forgive me, dear
child--you _will_ forgive me, I know--but I can't help blaming you a
little--"

Mrs. Peyton's accent converted the accusation into a caress, which
prolonged itself in a tremulous pressure of Kate's hand.

The girl gazed at her blankly. "You blame _me_--?"

"Don't be offended, my child. I only fear that your excessive sympathy with
Denis, your own delicacy of feeling, may have led you to encourage his
morbid ideas. He tells me you were very much shocked--as you naturally
would be--as any girl must be--I would not have you otherwise, dear Kate!
It is _beautiful_ that you should both feel so; most beautiful; but
you know religion teaches us not to yield too much to our grief. Let the
dead bury their dead; the living owe themselves to each other. And what had
this wretched woman to do with either of you? It is a misfortune for Denis
to have been connected in any way with a man of Arthur Peyton's character;
but after all, poor Arthur did all he could to atone for the disgrace he