“If I had only known what it would lead to when I made Everett what he is! But I knew nothing of business, and I wanted money, position to satisfy my craving at the loss of—that other thing. And now I couldn't change my husband if I would. He hasn't the courage, he hasn't the vision. What there was of him, long ago, has been killed—and I killed it. He isn't—anybody, now.”
She relapsed again into weeping.
“And then it might not mean only poverty—it might mean disgrace.”
“Disgrace!” the rector involuntarily took up the word.
“There are some things he has done,” she said in a low voice, “which he thought he was obliged to do which Eldon Parr made him do.”
“But Mr. Parr, too—?” Hodder began.
“Oh, it was to shield Eldon Parr. They could never be traced to him. And if they ever came out, it would kill my husband. Tell me,” she implored, “what can I do? What shall I do? You are responsible. You have made me more bitterly unhappy than ever.”
“Are you willing,” he asked, after a moment, “to make the supreme renunciation? to face poverty, and perhaps disgrace, to save your soul and others?”
“And—others?”
“Yes. Your sacrifice would not, could not be in vain. Otherwise I should be merely urging on you the individualism which you once advocated with me.”