Helen smiled sadly. “No; he would never admit it, even if he knew it to be true. At present his affection is wholly centered upon his book, and he himself has no real conception of how matters stand.”
“Then why do you feel so certain? I think you are right about Miss Thayer, but I have seen nothing to criticise in Jack’s conduct except this complete subjugation to his work.”
“I have been watching it for weeks, uncle, and I know that I am right. The old Jack—the Jack I married—found in me the response he craved; but to the new Jack—the real Jack—I can give nothing. Inez is his counterpart; Inez is the woman who can talk his language and live his life—not I.”
“There is no reason why you could not do this if he gave you the chance,” he asserted.
“At first it was my fault that I did not make the effort when he did give me the chance. Then I tried to enter into it—you remember the day I went to the library—but it was too late. Cerini showed me how hopeless it was. Then you remember Professor Tesso’s story. He was right; they are absolutely suited to each other. It is useless to fight against it and thus increase the misery.”
“If you are not going to fight against it, what are you going to do?”
“I am going to right the wrong in the only way which remains,” replied Helen, firmly.
“I don’t see it yet.” Uncle Peabody showed his perplexity. “What are you going to do?”
“Jack and I must be separated just as soon as it can be arranged.”
Uncle Peabody placed his hands upon her shoulders and looked into her eyes. With all the advance signals of the storm which he had noted he was unprepared for this climax. “Surely that point has not yet arrived, Helen,” he said, slowly. “‘Those whom God hath joined together—’”