"What folly is this?" he said, still talking with himself. "Wait! wait! wait!—the time is not yet. Separation only exists. There is no divorce. The great, impassable gulf is yet between us. I cannot go to her. She cannot come to me. I must wait, hopefully, if not patiently, the issue of events."
The thoughts of Hendrickson had once more been turning themselves towards Miss Arden, and he had felt the glow of warmer feelings. He had even begun to think again of marriage.
"Let that illusion go!" he said. "It must no longer tempt me to the commission of an act that reason and conscience both pronounce wrong. I do not love Mary Arden; therefore, I will not marry her. I settle that matter now, and forever."
And the decision was final. He did not visit her again for many months, and then only after her engagement to another.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THERE were plenty of intrusive friends to give Mr. Dexter advice as to how he should act towards the unhappy woman who had fled from him in her despair. He was rich, good-hearted—as the world goes—honorable, domestic in his feelings and habits; everything, in fact, that society requires in the composition of a good husband. The blame, therefore, among the friends of Mr. Dexter, was all on the side of his wife.
"You will, of course, if she persists in this unwarrantable conduct, demand a legal separation," said one.
"That is just what she wants," suggested another. "You could not grant her a higher favor."
"Wait—wait," was the advice of a third.