Gordon seemed for a moment to be pondering this assertion, then fixing
her with his eyes, said: "I believe you have never heard anything from
your husband since he deserted you?"
"Nothing."
"You do not know his whereabouts, nor whether he is alive or dead?"
She shook her head.
"More than three years have elapsed. So you are entitled to a divorce
in this State, if you see fit to claim it."
Constance had listened in astonishment. His tone was so respectful
that she could not take offence. He seemed to be merely informing her
as to her rights; and though the topic had never been broached up to
this time between them, was he not her intimate friend? Nevertheless
she felt agitated.
"It has never occurred to me that a divorce would be desirable," she
answered with as much formality as her dislike of artifice allowed her
to adopt. Then, yielding to curiosity or the inclination to break
another lance with him, she added: "Of what benefit would it be to me
to seek a divorce?"
"Merely that the bond is already broken; what remains is a husk."
"My husband may return." The response struck her as futile; still it
had risen to her lips as a convenient possibility.
"That is true. But if he did return after what has happened, I should
think--I have no right to invade your privacy--" He stopped short,
evidently appalled by the sound of his own presumption.
There was a brief silence. It would have been easy for Constance to
leave his inquiry where he had left it, but her love for the truth
caused her first to face the issue thus presented, and having solved it
by one full glance, to bear testimony to what was in her heart. Why
she felt this frankness necessary, she did not know, unless it were
that he was such a friend she did not wish him to think he had
offended. The interval was only momentary, but she appeared to herself
to have been standing speechless in the presence of the ashes of her
past for an awkward period before she said:
"My husband said when he went away that we could never be happy
together. I do not wish him to return."
She realized she was telling him her love was dead. It was the truth;
why should he not know? She heard him draw a deep breath. Suddenly
remembering the argument which had provoked his question, her mind flew
to it for refuge and sheltered itself behind it as a bulwark.
"But that is no reason why I should seek a divorce. A divorce could
not alter the situation."
He hesitated a moment as though he were about to continue the
discussion, then evidently thought better of it. "I simply wished you
to know your rights. Good-night."