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<h2> XV. </h2>
<p>When Kate thought of her husband after she had left him, it was not with
any crushing sense of shame. She had injured him, but she had gained
nothing by it. On the contrary, she had suffered, she had undergone
separation from her child. To soften the hard blow inflicted, she had
outraged the tenderest feelings of her heart. As often as she thought of
Pete and the deep wrong she had done him, she remembered this sacrifice,
she wept over this separation. Thus she reconciled herself to her conduct
towards her husband. If she had bought happiness at the cost of Pete's
sufferings, her remorse might have been deep; but she had only accepted
shame and humiliation and the severance of the dearest of her ties.</p>
<p>When she had said in the rapture of passionate confidence that if she
possessed Philip's love there could be no humiliation and no shame, she
had not yet dreamt of the creeping degradation of a life in the dark,
under a false name, in a false connection: a life under the same roof with
Philip, yet not by his side, unacknowledged, unrecognised, hidden and
suppressed. Even at the moment of that avowal, somewhere in the secret
part of her heart, where lay her love of refinement and her desire to be a
lady, she had cherished the hope that Philip would find a way out of the
meanness of their relation, that she would come to live openly beside him,
she hardly knew how, and she did not care at what cost of scandal, for
with Philip as her own she would be proud and happy.</p>
<p>Philip had not found that way out, yet she did not blame him. She had
begun to see that the deepest shame of their relation was not hers but
his. Since she had lived in Philip's house the man in him had begun to
decay. She could not shut her eyes to this rapid demoralisation, and she
knew well that it was the consequence of her presence. The deceptions, the
subterfuges, the mean shifts forced upon him day by day, by every chance,
every accident, were plunging him in ever-deepening degradation. And as
she realised this a new fear possessed her, more bitter than any
humiliation, more crushing than any shame—the fear that he would
cease to love her, the terror that he would come to hate her, as he
recognised the depth to which she had dragged him down.</p>
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