never very charitable. She was not well liked among the marketwomen, she never went out of her way to make friends, never letthem close to her. And then, you see, she was very beautiful, and astranger. He brought her from Wales, years ago, and even afteryears she spoke little English, and never made any effort to beanything but a stranger. She seemed to want no one but Ruald. Nowonder if she was bitter when he abandoned her. The neighbors saidshe turned to hating him, and claimed she had another lover andcould do without such a husband. But she fought for him to the end.Women turn for ease to hate, sometimes, when love leaves themnothing but pain.” She had mused herself into anotherwoman’s anguish with unwonted gravity; she shook off theimage with some dismay. “Now I am the gossip! Whatwill you think of me? And it’s all a year past, and surely bynow she’s reconciled. No wonder if she took up herroots—they were shallow enough here, once Ruald wasgone—and went away home to Wales without a word to a soul.With another man, or alone, what does it matter?”

“Love,” declared Hugh, at once touched and amused,“you never cease to be a wonder to me. How did you ever cometo know so much about the case? And feel so hotly aboutit?”

“I’ve seen them together, that was enough. Fromacross a fairground stall it was plain to be seen how fond, andwild she was. And you men,” said Aline, with resignedtolerance, “naturally see the man’s rights first, whenhe sets his heart on doing what he wants, whether it’sentering the cloister or going off to war, but I’m a woman,and I see how deeply wronged the wife was. Had she no rights in thematter? And did you ever stop to think—he could havehis freedom to go and become a monk, but his going didn’tconfer freedom on her. She could not take another husband;the one she had, monk or no, was still alive. Was that fair?Almost,” avowed Aline roundly, “I hope she did go witha lover, rather than have to live and endure alone.”