So, my darling, do not consider that there is any idle curiosity in what I am about to say to you.

I thought you were so happily married, my dear; and it is a bitter disappointment to me to find that such is not the case." There came no reply from Lady Arleigh; her hands were held before her eyes.
"I am almost afraid, dearly as I love you, to ask you the question," Margaret continued; "but, Madaline, will you tell me why you do not live with your husband ?" "I cannot, mother," was the brief reply.
"Is it--oh, tell me, dear!--is it any fault of yours?
Have you displeased him ?" "It is through no fault of mine, mother.

He says so himself." "Is it from any fault of his?
Has he done anything to displease you ?" "No," she answered, with sudden warmth, "he has not--indeed, he could not, I love him so." "Then, if you have not displeased each other, and really love each other, why are you parted in this strange fashion?
It seems to me, Madaline, that you are his wife only in name." "You are right, mother--and I shall never be any more; but do not ask me why--I can never tell you.

The secret must live and die with me." "Then I shall never know it, Madaline ?" "Never, mother," she answered.
"But do you know, my darling, that it is wearing your life away ?" "Yes, I know it, but I cannot alter matters.

And, mother," she continued, "if we are to be good friends and live together, you must never mention this to me again." "I will remember," said Margaret, kissing the thin white hands, but to herself she said matters should not so continue.