“The fault was mine,” replied Wharton.  “I gave her my life.  After all she is my wife and I can’t help it.  I have promised to meet her this afternoon at my studio.”

Even to these two girls there was something so helpless in Wharton’s ideas of life that they protested against his conduct.  Catherine was speechless with inability to understand what he meant.  Esther boldly interfered.

“You must do nothing without advice,” said she.  “Wait till Mr. Hazard comes and consult him.  If you can’t see him, promise me to go to my uncle, Mr. Murray, and let him take charge of this woman.  You will ruin your whole life if you let her into it again.”

“It is ruined already,” answered Wharton gloomily.  “I had that one chance of happiness and I can never have another.”

Nevertheless he promised to wait for Hazard, and the two girls obediently bade him good-by.  Catherine’s eyes were full of tears as he held her hand and begged her pardon for his rudeness.  A little romance was passing out of her life.  She went down the stairs after Esther without a word.  As they left the church they saw the woman on the pavement outside, still walking up and down; Catherine passed her with a glance of repulsion and defiance that made the woman turn and watch her till they disappeared down the avenue.

An hour afterwards a quick step hurried up the stair, and Hazard, evidently much disturbed, appeared on the scaffolding.  He found Wharton where the two girls had left him, sitting alone before St. Cecilia, the broken brush still in his hands, and his left hand red with the wet paint.  His face was paler than ever, and over the left temple was a large red spot, as though he had been pressing his hands to his forehead.  Hazard looked for a moment at the white face, contrasting painfully with its ghastly spot of intense red, and then spoke with assumed indifference: 

“So she has turned up again!”

Wharton returned his look with a weak smile which made his face still more horrible, and slowly answered: 

“I have worse news than that!”

“More bad news!” said Hazard.

“Tell me what you think,” continued Wharton in the same dreamy tone.  “You see that Cecilia there?”

Hazard glanced at the figure and back to Wharton without speaking.  Presently Wharton added with a smile of inexpressible content: 

“Well!  I love her.”

Chapter VI

Esther’s regrets on quitting her work at the church lasted not so long as Catherine’s, though they were more serious.  She had already begun to feel alarmed about her father’s condition, and nothing but his positive order had induced her to leave him even for a few hours every day.  She had seen that his strength steadily failed; he suffered paroxysms of pain; he lost consciousness more than once; and although he insisted to the last on acting as though he were well, his weakness increased until