“The law?” she echoed ironically.  “When he asks for his freedom?”

“You are not obliged to give it.”

“You were not obliged to give me mine—­but you did.”

He made a protesting gesture.

“You saw that the law couldn’t help you—­didn’t you?” she went on.  “That is what I see now.  The law represents material rights—­it can’t go beyond.  If we don’t recognize an inner law...the obligation that love creates...being loved as well as loving... there is nothing to prevent our spreading ruin unhindered...is there?” She raised her head plaintively, with the look of a bewildered child.  “That is what I see now...what I wanted to tell you.  He leaves me because he’s tired...but I was not tired; and I don’t understand why he is.  That’s the dreadful part of it—­the not understanding:  I hadn’t realized what it meant.  But I’ve been thinking of it all day, and things have come back to me—­things I hadn’t noticed...when you and I...”  She moved closer to him, and fixed her eyes on his with the gaze that tries to reach beyond words.  “I see now that you didn’t understand—­did you?”

Their eyes met in a sudden shock of comprehension:  a veil seemed to be lifted between them.  Arment’s lip trembled.

“No,” he said, “I didn’t understand.”

She gave a little cry, almost of triumph.  “I knew it!  I knew it!  You wondered—­you tried to tell me—­but no words came...  You saw your life falling in ruins...the world slipping from you...and you couldn’t speak or move!”

She sank down on the chair against which she had been leaning.  “Now I know—­now I know,” she repeated.

“I am very sorry for you,” she heard Arment stammer.

She looked up quickly.  “That’s not what I came for.  I don’t want you to be sorry.  I came to ask you to forgive me...for not understanding that you didn’t understand...  That’s all I wanted to say.”  She rose with a vague sense that the end had come, and put out a groping hand toward the door.

Arment stood motionless.  She turned to him with a faint smile.

“You forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive—­”

“Then will you shake hands for good-by?” She felt his hand in hers:  it was nerveless, reluctant.

“Good-by,” she repeated.  “I understand now.”

She opened the door and passed out into the hall.  As she did so, Arment took an impulsive step forward; but just then the footman, who was evidently alive to his obligations, advanced from the background to let her out.  She heard Arment fall back.  The footman threw open the door, and she found herself outside in the darkness.

THE LETTER

I