, in
the priest's tone which angered him. Whatever his presence here might
betide, he was in no way responsible for it to Father Adrian.

"Nor I you," he answered. "I imagined that you were staying at the
monastery."

"I am staying there."

Madame de Merteuill stepped slowly into the room. She was still
trembling, and had all the appearance of a woman sore stricken by some
unexpected calamity. Even her voice was faint and broken.

"Father Adrian is a visitor here only--an unexpected one--like
yourself."

"Why is he here?" Adrea asked slowly. "Has he come to see us again?
What does he want?"

Father Adrian turned towards her, grave and severe. "I have come to
see Madame de Merteuill. I bring her a message from an old man
whom, by her absence, she is wronging. You I did not expect to find
here,--and thus."

She made no answer. The priest drew a little nearer to her, and his
thin, ascetic face seemed suddenly ablaze with scorn and anger.

"Child! your destiny is surely to bring sorrow upon all those who
would watch over you, and shape your life aright. Where you have been
living, and how, since your flight, I do not know. You have hidden
yourself well! You have shown more than the ordinary selfishness of
childhood! You have thought nothing of those who may have troubled for
you! I do not ask for your confidence. This is enough for me: I find
you here in his arms--his of all men in the world! False to your
Church; false to your sex; false to your father's memory! Shameless!"

She did not flinch from before him. She looked him in the face, coldly
and without fear.

"You are a priest, and you do not understand. Be so good as to
remember that I am no longer now in your power or under your
authority. You cannot threaten to make me a nun any longer. Remember
that I am outside your life now, and outside your religion."

"You can be brought back," he said calmly. "I have powers."

"Powers which I defy. Your religion is a cold, dry farce, and I hate
it. You cannot frighten me; you cannot alarm me in the least. You can
do ugly things, I know, in the name of your Church; and if you had me
back at the convent, or on that awful island, I should be frightened
at you. Here, I am not."

Instinctively she glanced toward Paul. Already in her thoughts, he was
assuming the protector. He would not suffer harm to come to her.
He was strong and rich and powerful. The horror of days gone by had
already grown faint with her; it w