"What do you mean, Helen?" he demanded, with compressed lips.
"I mean that you are making my life intolerable—my burdens are heavier than I can bear."
"You are jealous of Marie Duncan?" he said, a slight smile curling his lips.
"Jealous—of her? No!" cried Helen scornfully. "A woman who will accept the exclusive attentions of a married man, allowing him to lavish upon her money that is needed by and rightly belongs to his family, is worthy only of contempt. But I am concerned for my own good name and yours, for the future of my child, that no taint shall mar her prospects and sap the joy from her life. So I say this state of things must stop."
"Very well; let it stop, then!" John flung back angrily. "Do you want a divorce?"
"A divorce! I?" cried Helen, scarce able to restrain a shriek of aversion at the suggestion. Then, swallowing hard, she panted: "I could not be divorced."
"You are mistaken; the law will free you if you desire."
"The law! It is an unholy law, made to accommodate vacillating natures that lightly wed to-day and weary of their bonds to-morrow; it is a blot and a shame upon the constitution that permits it, upon the country that tolerates it. No, no—it is not possible for me!"
She sat silent for a moment or two, her companion studying her uneasily meanwhile.
"John," she presently resumed, bending nearer to him, and he could see the pulses beating in her white throat from the intensity of her emotion, "when I married you it was no light thing I did. I gave myself to you—all that I was then, or ever hoped to be in this life—until death should part us—death, do you understand?—not until you should become weary of me, or until I found my burdens heavier than I had thought, but for better or for worse, as long as time should endure for us. It was a vow that can never be annulled—a hundred divorces would avail nothing; I marvel that you could suggest the measure to me! I am your wife, united to you not only by that solemn ceremony that made us one, but by an indissoluble bond that involves my honor, my love, and my loyalty—by that moral law that never releases one from his voluntary oath—and your wife I shall remain as long as I draw breath."