Ethel declined to give any opinion. “She must hear both sides,” she said. “Dora had been so reasonable lately, she had appeared happy.”
“Oh, Dora is a little fox,” he replied; “she doubles on herself always.”
Ruth was properly regretful. She wondered “if any married woman was really happy.” She did not apparently concern herself about Basil. The Judge rather leaned to Basil’s consideration. He understood that Dora’s overt act had shattered his professional career as well as his personal happiness. He could feel for the man there. “My dears,” he said, with his dilettante air, “the goddess Calamity is delicate, and her feet are tender. She treads not upon the ground, but makes her path upon the hearts of men.” In this non-committal way he gave his comment, for he usually found a bit of classical wisdom to fit modern emergencies, and the habit had imparted an antique bon-ton to his conversation. Ethel could only wonder at the lack of real sympathy.
In the morning she went to see her grandmother. The old lady had “heard” all she wanted to hear about Dora and Basil Stanhope. If men would marry a fool because she was young and pretty, they must take the consequences. “And why should Stanhope have married at all?” she asked indignantly. “No man can serve God and a woman at the same time. He had to be a bad priest and a good husband, or a bad husband and a good priest. Basil Stanhope was honored, was doing good, and he must needs be happy also. He wanted too much, and lost everything. Serve him right.”
“All can now find some fault in poor Basil Stanhope,” said Ethel. “Bryce was bitter against him because Miss Caldwell shivers at the word ‘divorce.’”
“What has Bryce to do with Jane Caldwell?”
“He is going to marry her, he says.”
“Like enough; she’s a merry miss of two-score, and rich. Bryce’s marriage with anyone will be a well-considered affair—a marriage with all the advantages of a good bargain. I’m tired of the whole subject. If women will marry they should be as patient as Griselda, in case there ever was such a woman; if not, there’s an end of the matter.”
“There are no Griseldas in this century, grandmother.”
“Then there ought to be no marriages. Basil Stanhope was a grand man in public. What kind of a man was he in his home? Measure a man by his home conduct, and you’ll not go wrong. It’s the right place to draw your picture of him, I can tell you that.”