"O my lord, O Love, I have laid my life at thy feet;
Have thy will thereof For what shall please thee is sweet!"SWINBURNE.
She roused herself at last. Unclasping her hands, she pushed back her hair from her brows and sighed heavily. Shivering as with intense cold, she rose from the chair she had so long occupied, and stood upright, mechanically gathering around her the long fur mantle that she had not as yet taken off. Catching sight of the letter where it lay, a gleaming speck of white on the rich dark hues of the carpet, she picked it up and read it through again calmly and comprehensively,--then folded it up carefully as though it were something of inestimable value. Her thoughts were a little confused,--she could only realize clearly two distinct things,--first, that Philip was unhappy,--secondly, that she was in the way of his happiness. She did not pause to consider how this change in him had been effected,--moreover, she never imagined that the letter he had written could refer to any one but himself. Hers was a nature that accepted facts as they appeared--she never sought for ulterior motives or disguised meanings. True, she could not understand her husband's admiration for Violet Vere, "But then"--she thought--"many other men admire her too. And so it is certain there must be something about her that wins love,--something I cannot see!"
And presently she put aside all other considerations, and only pondered on one thing,--how should she remove herself from the path of her husband's pleasure? For she had no doubt but that she was an obstacle to his enjoyment. He had made promises to Violet Vere which he was "ready to fulfill,"--he offered her "an honorable position,"--he desired her "not to condemn him to death,"--he besought her to let his words "carry more weight with her."
"It is because I am here," thought Thelma wearily. "She would listen to him if I were gone!" She had the strangest notions of wifely duty--odd minglings of the stern Norse customs with the gentler teachings of Christianity,--yet in both cases the lines of woman's life were clearly defined in one word--obedience. Most women, receiving an apparent proof of a husband's infidelity, would have made what is termed a "scene,"--would have confronted him with rage and tears, and personal abuse,--but Thelma was too gentle for this,--too gentle to resist what seemed to be Philip's wish and will, and far too proud to stay where it appeared evident she was not wanted. Moreover she could not bear the idea of speaking to him on, such a subject as his connection with Violet Vere,--the hot color flushed her cheeks with a sort of shame as she thought of it.