“I behold,” said the General, “a business man of great ability and great wealth, who discovers too late that his wife is unequally yoked with an unbeliever.  Love abides not in his home, and his heart is afloat on the fierce, rolling sea.  He leaves his abode in the country, and seeks in the tumultuous life of the metropolis to drown his disappointments.  He there discovers a beautiful woman, cast in Nature’s finest mould, and finds himself, for the first time, matched.  Gently this heavenly creature repels him, though her heart yearns toward him with unmistakable tenderness.  She is a prudent woman.  She has a position to maintain.  She is alone.  She is a friend to the wife of this unfortunate gentleman.  She is hindered in many ways from giving rein to the impulses of her heart.  This man of wealth deposits a magnificent sum in Europe.  This lady goes thither for health and amusement, and draws upon this sum at will.  She travels from capital to capital, or hides herself in Alpine villages, but is found at last by him who has laid his wealth at her feet.”

The General revealed his vision with occasional glances through half-closed eyes at the face that hung bowed before him.  It was a desperate step, but he had determined to take it when he entered the house.  Humiliated, tormented, angry, Mrs. Dillingham sat before him, covering from his sight as well as she could the passion that raged within her.  She knew that she had invited the insult.  She was conscious that her treatment of him, from the first, though she had endeavored to change her relations with him without breaking his friendship, had nursed his base passion and his guilty purpose.  She was undergoing a just punishment, and acknowledged to herself the fact.  Once she would have delighted in tormenting him.  Once she would not have hesitated to drive him from her door.  Once—­but she was changed.  A little boy who had learned to regard her as a mother, was thinking of her in the distant woods.  She had fastened to that childish life the hungry instincts of her motherly nature.  She had turned away forever from all that could dishonor the lad, or hinder her from receiving his affection without an upbraiding conscience.

Mr. Belcher’s instincts were quick enough to see that his vision had not prospered in the mind to which he had revealed it; and yet, there was a hesitation in the manner of the woman before him which he could not explain to himself, if he admitted that his proposition had been wholly offensive.  Mrs. Dillingham’s only wish was to get him out of the house.  If she could accomplish this without further humiliation, it was all she desired.

“General,” she said, at last, “You must have been drinking.  I do not think you know what you have said to me.”

“On the contrary, I am perfectly sober,” said he, rising and approaching her.

“You must not come near me.  Give me time! give me time!” she exclaimed, rising and retreating.