“All I mean to say is, that if you go on as you do, you will turn his head and spoil him.  Do you think I do not know what is going on among you?”

“And what is going on among us,—­as you call it?”

“You are taking this young man up and putting him on a pedestal and worshipping him, just because he is well-looking, and rather clever and decently behaved.  It’s always the way with women who have nothing to do, and who cannot be made to understand that they should have duties.  They cannot live without some kind of idolatry.”

“Have I neglected my duty to you, Robert?”

“Yes,—­you know you have;—­in going to those receptions at your father’s house on Sundays.”

“What has that to do with Mr. Finn?”

“Psha!”

“I begin to think I had better tell Mr. Finn not to come here any more, since his presence is disagreeable to you.  All the world knows how great is the service he did you, and it will seem to be very ridiculous.  People will say all manner of things; but anything will be better than that you should go on as you have done,—­accusing your wife of idolatry towards—­a young man, because—­he is—­well-looking.”

“I never said anything of the kind.”

“You did, Robert.”

“I did not.  I did not speak more of you than of a lot of others.”

“You accused me personally, saying that because of my idolatry I had neglected my duty; but really you made such a jumble of it all, with papa’s visitors, and Sunday afternoons, that I cannot follow what was in your mind.”

Then Mr. Kennedy stood for awhile, collecting his thoughts, so that he might unravel the jumble, if that were possible to him; but finding that it was not possible, he left the room, and closed the door behind him.

Then Lady Laura was left alone to consider the nature of the accusation which her husband had brought against her; or the nature rather of the accusation which she had chosen to assert that her husband had implied.  For in her heart she knew that he had made no such accusation, and had intended to make none such.  The idolatry of which he had spoken was the idolatry which a woman might show to her cat, her dog, her picture, her china, her furniture, her carriage and horses, or her pet maid-servant.  Such was the idolatry of which Mr. Kennedy had spoken;—­but was there no other worship in her heart, worse, more pernicious than that, in reference to this young man?

She had schooled herself about him very severely, and had come to various resolutions.  She had found out and confessed to herself that she did not, and could not, love her husband.  She had found out and confessed to herself that she did love, and could not help loving, Phineas Finn.  Then she had resolved to banish him from her presence, and had gone the length of telling him so.  After that she had perceived that she had been wrong, and had determined to meet him as she met other men,—­and