“Time passed, and though you didn’t know, I was in Hell. Reason told me I was right. Instinct, something, called me a drag. I tried to compromise, and we were married. Then, for 172 the first time, came realization. We were the best of friends,––but only friends.”
“You wonder how I knew. I didn’t tell you then. I couldn’t. I could only feel, and that not clearly. The shadow of your ‘why’ was still dark upon me. What I vaguely felt then, though, I know now; as I recognize light or cold or pain.” Her voice assumed the tone of one who speaks of mysteries; slow, vibrant. “In every woman’s mind the maternal instinct should be uppermost; before everything, before God,––unashamed, inevitable. It’s unmistakably the distinction of a good woman from a bad. The choosing of the father of her child is a woman’s unfailing test of love.”
The face of the man before her dropped into his hands, but she did not notice.
“Gropingly I felt this, and the knowledge came almost as an inspiration. It gave a clue to––”
“Stop!” The man’s eyes blazed, as he leaped from his chair. “Stop!”
He took a step forward, his hand before him, his face twitching uncontrollably. The collie 173 on the step awoke, and seeing his mistress threatened, growled ominously.
“Stop, I tell you!” Arnold choked for words. This the man of “why,” whom nothing before could shake!
Camilla paled as her companion arose, and the dog, bristling, came inside the room.
“Get out!” blazed the man, with a threatening step, and the collie fled.
The interruption loosed words which came tumbling forth in a torrent, as Arnold returned to face her.