"I don't know her," Dr. Ashton returned coolly, "so of course I can't tell how sensible she is; but in any case I can trust Arthur's discretion."
"She's orthodox," said Helen, "or, no, I think she is not so bad as
that; but she would regard the idea of suicide as unspeakably wicked.
At least I think so; I never saw her but once. Oh, I do hate to have
Arthur marry her. It's dreadful!"
"Of course; it's dreadful to think of any man's marrying, for that matter," he returned with a smile, "but he is a man who was sure to do it sooner or later."
"He's a man of so much principle," Helen mused, half aloud.
"Principle," sneered her companion laughingly, "principle is only formulated policy."
"I am dreadfully tired of epigrams," sighed Helen as they walked down West street. "Whether Arthur learned the habit of you or you of him I don't know; but the pair of you are enough to corrupt all Boston. I do wish you'd give me that case. I'm sure I need it far more than Arthur does. He's going to be married, his pictures are praised and are beginning to sell, he has life before him and every thing to live for, while I have nothing."
"Life is before you, too," answered her husband gravely, putting his hand upon her arm to prevent her flying under the wheels of a carriage which in her absorption she had not noticed. "Look here, Helen; it wouldn't be any better if Arthur wanted to marry you. You are too melancholy alone without having him to push you deeper into the slough of despond."
"You are mistaken, Will," was the quiet response. "I am fond of Arthur, very fond, indeed; but not in that way. I am a fool to grieve about his marriage; I own that, though after all I've lived through I ought to be too hardened to care. But you must acknowledge that it isn't very pleasant for me to see him deliberately going away to marry a woman who would consider me a Bohemian, and very likely anything but respectable, because you and I choose to be comfortable apart instead of miserable together. If I were not so utterly alone in the world, losing a friend would not be so great a matter, perhaps; but he is all I have now, Will."
"It is hard, old lady; that's a fact. I wish I could straighten things out for you, but I don't see how I can."
"No," Helen said drearily, "nobody can."