Who was he that he should claim to lead a life apart, or arrogate to himself an immunity and an independence other men had not?
Man and woman created He them, and did it not make for good?
And he sank back in his chair, with the picture of a life before him, blessed and giving blessings, and ending at last in an old age, when she would still be with him, when he should be the head and inspiration of a house wherein God's service was done, when he should see his son's sons following in his steps, and so, having borne his part, fall asleep, to wake again to an union wherein were no stain of earth and no shadow of parting.
From these musings he awoke with a shudder, as there came back to him many a memory of lofty pitying words, with which he had gently drawn aside the cloak of seemliness wherein some sinner had sought to wrap his sin.

His dream of the perfect joint-life, what was it but a sham tribute to decency, a threadbare garment for the hideousness of naked passion?
Had he taught himself to contemplate such a life, and shaped himself for it, it might be a worthy life--not the highest, but good for men who were not made for saints.

But as it was, it seemed to him but a glazing over of his crime.

Sternly there stood between him and it his profession and his pledge.

If he would forsake the one and violate the other, by Heaven, he would do it boldly, and not seek to slink out by such self-cozening.