“I never give her a cross word; I leave her to do as it best pleases her.”
“There, that is the mistake. The secret of the danger lies in that one act of yours. How many have I known, lovely and pure like your wife, who have suffered their unguarded affections—the very beauty of their nature—to destroy them.”
“That is true; I have known many such cases,” admitted Robert.
“Then, in the name of God, pull yourself together, man; brace up, I will help you all I can.”
Robert raised his head:
“Marrion, I have never esteemed you half so much as I do now; your interest is unselfish and sincere, I know that.”
“It is, Milburn, and I am glad you take it as I meant it. It has been said, the loves and friendships of life are its sweetest resources. All else—special achievements, creative genius in any form of manifestation—ministers to them. To live in an atmosphere of sympathy is to live in an atmosphere of heaven, and often it is true that a man must hold his friends unjudged, accepted, trusted to the end.”
The artist reached out his hand, and the other quit speaking.
“There is my hand and promise to leave drink alone when I have finished my picture. Even now, I would give the world to look straight into God’s good face and smile with the glad lips my mother used to kiss.”