Mrs. Thorpe, still upon her knees, saw in the future pain, suffering, separation--evils which, should she give her promise, she dare not deny.
Mr. Thorpe put her from him and arose to his feet. She arose also and looked into his face; it was haggard and gray.
"Oh, Maurice!" she cried, "that I who love you should cause you to suffer so!" She extended her hands to him, but he ignored her advance.
"I have asked a promise, made a demand," he said, "and you have not answered me."
Again the living fire glittered in the sunshine; again the darkness reeled before her. "Oh, Christ," she sobbed, inaudibly, "you who suffered and died for the truth, help and keep me now!" Her face was drawn and gray as her husband's, and when she spoke her voice was sharp and keen with pain.
"I cannot--cannot deny my God," she said.
CHAPTER XIII
THE PURE IN HEART
The term, "A man of the world," is elastic enough to cover a multitude of sins, and it gives the impression that however far from exemplary the man may be to whom the term is applied, and however far from spotless his character, that having made no avowal of virtue, he is in some degree excusable for exercising the prerogatives of a villain.
Max Morrison was a man of the world. Men knew him as an all around good fellow; women knew him as a bright and shining light about which many a pretty moth had singed its gilded wings, been scorched, maimed, wounded. But his popularity increased rather than diminished because of this, and Edgerly's best society welcomed him warmly.