"Do you really think, my dear Dean," he said, as he resumed his walk up and down, "that one human being has, ultimately, any decisive power over another? If so, I am more of a believer in—fate—or liberty—I am not sure which—than you."
The Dean sighed.
"That you were infinitely good and loving to her we all know."
"'Good'—'loving'?" said Ashe, under his breath, with a note of scorn. "I—"
He restrained himself, hiding his face as he hung over the fire.
There was a silence, till the Dean once more placed himself in Ashe's path. "My dear friend—you saw the risks, and yet you took them! You made the vow 'for better, for worse.' My friend, you have, so to speak, lost your venture! But let me urge on you that the obligation remains!"
"What obligation?"
"The obligation to the life you took into your own hands—to the soul you vowed to cherish," said the Dean, with an apostolic and passionate earnestness.
Ashe stood before him, pale, and charged with resolution.
"That obligation—has been cancelled—by the laws of your own Christian faith, no less than by the ordinary laws of society."