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His faithful old domestic soon prepared a dainty meal, which
aided in giving tone to his exhausted system. Then he sat down by
his fire to brace himself for the tidings he expected to hear.
Helen's chair was empty. It would always be hers, but hope was
gone that she would smile from it upon him during the long winter
evenings. Already the room was darkening toward the early December
twilight, and he felt that his life was darkening in like manner.
He was no longer eager to hear what had occurred. The mental and
physical sluggishness which possessed him was better than sharp
pain; he would learn all soon enough--the recognition, the
beginning of a new life which inevitably would drift further and
further from him. His best hope was to get through the time, to
endure patiently and shape his life so as to permit as little of
its shadow as possible to fall upon hers. But as he looked around
the apartment and saw on every side the preparations for one who
had been his, yet could be no longer, his fortitude gave way, and
he buried his face in his hands.


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