And Helen, steadfastly returning his gaze, saw a look growing in her husband's face, such as she had never yet seen there, and knew, even before he began to speak, what he was going to say; and her protective love, longing as ever to shield him from pain, cried out: "Oh, must I let him realise that ?" But, at last, through the guidance of wiser Hands than hers, the matter had passed beyond Helen's control.
"My wife," said Ronnie slowly, "when I called it 'the Upas tree indeed,' I did not mean the _one_ act of going off in ignorance and leaving you alone during the whole of that time, when any man who cared at all would wish to be at hand, to bear, and share, and guard.

I do not brand that as selfish; because you purposely withheld from me the truth, and bid me go.

But _why_ did you withhold it?
Why, after the first shock, did you feel glad to face the prospect of bearing it alone; glad I should be away?
Ah, here we find the very roots of the Upas tree! Was it not because, during the whole of our married life, I have been cheerfully, complacently selfish?
I have calmly accepted as the rule of the home, that I should hear of no worries which you could keep from me, tread upon no thorns which you could clear out of my path, bear no burdens which your loving hands could lift and carry out of sight.

Your interests, your pleasures, your friends, your pursuits, all have been swept on one side, if they seemed in the smallest degree likely to interfere with my work, my desires, my career.

You have lived for me--absolutely.