Just as Mrs Irving had written her story for her daughter to read,

she told it, in the main, to the rector a few days before her death.

Only once before had the tale passed her lips; then her listener was

Horace Irving; and his only comment was to take her in his arms and

place the kiss of betrothal on her lips. Never again was the painful

subject referred to between them. So imbued had Berene Dumont become

with her belief in the legitimacy of her child, and in her own

purity, that she felt but little surprise at the calm manner in which

Mr Irving received her story, and now when the rector of St Blank's

Church was her listener, she expected the same broad judgment to be

given her. But it was the calmness of a great and all-forgiving love

which actuated Mr Irving, and overcame all other feelings.

Wholly unconventional in nature, caring nothing and knowing little of

the extreme ideas of orthodox society on these subjects, the girl

Berene and the woman Mrs Irving had lived a life so wholly secluded

from the world at large, so absolutely devoid of intimate

friendships, so absorbed in her own ideals, that she was incapable of

understanding the conventional opinion regarding a woman with a

history like hers.

In all those years she had never once felt a sensation of shame. Mr

Irving had requested her to rear Joy in the belief that she was his

child. As the matter could in no way concern anyone else, Mrs

Irving's lips had remained sealed on the subject; but not with any

idea of concealing a disgrace. She could not associate disgrace with

her love for Preston Cheney. She believed herself to be his

spiritual widow, as it were. His mortal clay and legal name only

belonged to his wife.

Mr Irving had met Berene on a railroad train, and had conceived one

of those sudden and intense passions with which a woman with a past

often inspires an innocent and unworldly young man. He was sincerely

and truly religious by nature, and as spotless as a maiden in mind

and body.

When he had dreamed of a wife, it was always of some shy, innocent

girl whom he should woo almost from her mother's arms; some gentle,

pious maid, carefully reared, who would help him to establish the

Christian household of his imagination. He had thought that love

would first come to him as admiring respect, then tender friendship,

then love for some such maiden; instead it had swooped down upon him

in the form of an intense passion for an absolute stranger--a woman

travelling with a theatrical company. He was like a sleeper who

awakens suddenly and finds a scorching midday sun beating upon his

eyes. A wrecked freight train upon the track detained for several

hours the car in which they travelled. The passengers waived

ceremony and conversed to pass the time, and Mr Irving learnt

Berene's name, occupation and destination. He followed her for a

week, and at the end of that time asked her hand in marriage.




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