A cry rang through the room. Elinor turned upon him for a moment a face blazing with hot and painful colour. The lamp had been brought in, and he saw the fierce blush and look of horror. Then she turned round and buried it in her hands.
"Divorce!" said Mrs. Dennistoun. "Elinor——! To drag her private affairs before the world. Oh, John, John, that could not be. You would not wish that to be."
"I!" he cried with a laugh of tuneless mirth. "Is it likely that I would wish to drag Elinor before the world?"
Elinor did not say anything, but withdrew one hand from her burning cheek and put it into his. These women treated John as if he were a man of wood. What he might be feeling, or if he were feeling anything, did not enter their minds.
"It was like her," said Elinor after a time in a low hurried voice, "to think of that. She is the only one who would think of it. As if I had ever thought or dreamed——"
"It is possible, however," he said, "that it might be reasonable enough. I don't speak to Elinor," who had let go his hand hastily, "but to you, aunt. If it is altogether final, as she says, to be released would perhaps be better, from a bond that was no bond."
"John, John, would you have her add shame to pain?"
"The shame would not be to her, aunt."
"The shame is to every one concerned—to every one! My Elinor's name, her dear name, dragged through all that mud! She a party, perhaps, to revelations—Oh, never, never! We would bear anything rather."
"This of course," said John, "is perhaps a still more bitter punishment for the other side."