"It cannot be otherwise," he said, falteringly. "I do not leave you to return to happiness. I might find that with you. I go because both for you and for me it is right. We may have years of life before us; let us use them for repentance. In this lies our only hope."
"Do you know what my life must be?"
"One of better deeds. It is not for me," he said, sorrowfully, "to try to win you to high thoughts. That would seem impious, and would inspire you with just contempt for me and for those teachings I have disgraced. But I urge you to consider these things. Seek counsel; I can give you the means; or, if you prefer, go to a priest of your own church."
She smiled bitterly. Knowing his own deadly depression, he could read her thoughts; he implored her not to despair, pointing out that that which was a solemn obligation, her temporal welfare, would be surely fulfilled by him. "Our unholy union," he said, with sad simplicity, "entails upon me the duty of making due provision for you. This will be a matter for immediate attention; promise me to remain quietly here until you hear from me."
And so it was arranged, he giving her money for present needs. He watched her while she packed his valise, touched by wifely attentions, the lack of which, he told himself, had long been a grievance, of which now he knew the cause. He looked about him, noting the embellishments which her taste and her training had enabled her to add to the room, even in the short period of their occupancy, and the sense of a justifying grievance grew stronger.
"There's room for this," she said, holding up a bottle of champagne, the last of a series, and unused because she had insisted upon moderation. He watched her place it in the bag. He had resolved never again to drink wine, but he would not refuse what she gave him, denying herself.
They said good-bye. He left her, promising soon to see her, and in his heart solemnly resolving that they should never meet again. The lie was but one more added to his catalogue of sins, and had been necessary. As to that provision for her needs, he would make it generously. He could not as yet see how details were to be arranged, but for the present there were other things to think of. A man cannot suddenly make the acquaintance of himself without paying some attention to the stranger.
He remained a day longer in the city, and then, absolutely unable to bear solitude, and with a manful struggle to avoid returning to the beckoning comfort he had left, he started on the dreaded journey homeward.