Trevelyan told himself that he suspected his wife of no sin.

God forbid that it should ever come to that, both for his sake and for hers; and, above all, for the sake of that boy who was so dear to them both! But there would be the vile whispers, and dirty slanders would be dropped from envious tongues into envious ears, and minds prone to evil would think evil of him and of his.

Had not Lady Milborough already cautioned him?
Oh, that he should have lived to have been cautioned about his wife;--that he should be told that eyes outside had looked into the sacred shrine of his heart and seen that things there were fatally amiss! And yet Lady Milborough was quite right.

Had he not in his hand at this moment a document that proved her to be right?
"Dear Emily!" He took this note and crushed it in his fist, and then pulled it into fragments.
But what should he do?
There was, first of all considerations, the duty which he owed to his wife, and the love which he bore her.
That she was ignorant and innocent he was sure; but then she was so contumacious that he hardly knew how to take a step in the direction of guarding her from the effects of her ignorance, and maintaining for her the advantages of her innocence.

He was her master, and she must know that he was her master.