love me, that does not absolve me. I must fulfil my promise and my
duty."

"But," Helen responded, doubtfully and slowly, "it seems to me a
sacrilege to live with a man after one has ceased to love him."

"But I would love him," Edith broke in almost fiercely. "That is just
the point. One must refuse to cease to love him."

"But if he ceased to love her?"

A flush came into Edith's clear cheek, and her eyes shone. Half
unconsciously to herself, she was fighting with the doubts which would
now and then rise in her own mind of her husband's affection.

"Then," she said, in a low voice, "one must still be worthy of his
love; one must do one's duty. Besides," she added, looking up with a
gleam of hope, "when one has made a solemn vow, as a wife vows to love
her husband until death part them, I firmly believe that strength to
keep that vow will not be withheld."

Helen was silent a moment. She by no means agreed to the position Edith
took. She had no belief in those promises in virtue of which the
sacraments of the church took on a peculiar sanctity; she did not at
all trust to any special help bestowed by higher powers. She did not,
however, care to argue upon these points, and she said more lightly,--

"You task womanhood pretty heavily."

"A little woman who is a _protegee_ of mine," Edith returned, in the