mself that he had come to bid her farewell; that Father
Adrian's words, vague though they were, yet had a definite meaning,
and were worthy of his regard. But at that moment their memory was
like a dying echo in his ears. This first passion of his life was
strong upon him, and everything else was weak. The future was suddenly
bounded for him by a pair of white, clinging arms, and a dark,
beautiful face pressed close to his. He saw no more; he could see no
further.

CHAPTER XXI

"ADREA'S DIARY"

"By love stalks hate, his brother and his mate."

I am scarcely calm enough to write! Yet I must write! My heart is
full; my very pulses are throbbing with excitement! What is it that
has happened? It is all confused in my mind. Let me try and set it
down clearly; then perhaps I shall be able to see my way.

Yesterday it seemed to me that my being was all too small for one
passion. Now it holds two! The one, perhaps, intensifies the other.
That is possible, for they are opposites, and one has grown out of the
other. Now I cannot tell which is the stronger, the love or the hate.

I love one man, and I hate another. Perhaps I should say I love one
man because I hate another. You, my dumb confidant, may be trusted
with names, so I will be clearer still. I love Paul de Vaux, and I
hate Father Adrian!

Oh! that he should have dared! that he should have dared to speak so
to me! If only Paul had been there, he should have beaten him. If I
had had the strength and the means, I would have killed him where
he stood, and silenced those thin, cruel lips for ever. I could have
stabbed him to the heart, and my hand would never have faltered.

Let me try to recall that scene. It is not difficult. His words are
ringing still in my ears, and his white, passionate face seems to
follow and mock me wherever I look. I see it out there in the white
moonlight, and it rises up from the dark corners of the room. It
haunts me, and I hate it! I hate him as a woman hates any one who
comes between her and the man she loves!

We were alone, Paul and I; at least, we thought so. I had heard no one
enter, nor had he. But suddenly a voice rang out and filled the room;
a fierce, cruel voice, so changed and hardened with passion that I
scarcely recognised it. But when we sprang up, and peered through the
twilight of the chamber we saw him standing close to us,--so close
that he might even have heard our whispered words to one another.

Ther