cked man, and you should be ashamed of your
behavior, of your words, your wicked words. If Ella Linton were wicked,
you would be responsible for it in the sight of God. You, a clergyman,
whose duty it is to help the weak ones, to give counsel to those who
stand on the brink of danger; you speak your own condemnation if you
speak Ella Linton's. You have spent your time not in that practical work
of the Church--that work which is done silently by those of her priests
who are desirous of doing their duty; you have spent your time, not in
this work, but in theorizing, in inventing vain sophistries to put in a
book, and so cause people to talk about you; whether they talk well or
ill of you, you care not so long as they talk; you have been doing this
to gratify your own vanity, instead of doing your duty as a clergyman
on behalf of the souls which have been intrusted to your keeping. Go
away--go away! I am ashamed of you; I am ashamed of myself that I was
ever foolish enough to allow my name to be associated with yours even
for a single day. I shall never, never again enter the church where you
preach. Go away! Go away!"

He stood before her with his hands by his sides as a man suddenly
paralyzed might stand. He had never recovered from the shock produced by
her crying of the word "lies! lies! lies!" He was dazed. He was barely
conscious of the injustice which she was doing him, for he felt that he
was not actuated by vanity, but sincerity in all that he had hitherto
preached and written regarding the Church. Still he had not the power to
interrupt her in her accusation; he had not the power to tell her that
she was falsely accusing him.

When her impassioned denunciation of him had come to an end, and she
stood with flaming face, one outstretched hand pointing to the door, he
recovered himself--partially; and curiously enough, his first thought
was that he had never seen a more beautiful girl in a more graceful
attitude. She had insulted him grossly; she had behaved as none of the
daughters of Philistia would behave in regard to him--him, a clergyman
of the Church of England; but he forgot her insults, her injustice, and
his only thought was that she was surely the most beautiful woman in the
world.

"I am amazed!" he found words to say at last. "I am amazed! I felt
certain that you at least would do me justice. I thought--"

"I will not listen to you," she cried. "Every word you utter increases
my self-contempt at havi