in Father Adrian's words, and it was I who
was the cause of it. Oh! if this man should bring evil upon Paul! The
thought of it is like madness to me! See, there goes my pen! I cannot
write when I think of it!

I have opened my window. The very air is sad with the moaning of
the sea, and the rustling of the night breeze in the thick, tangled
shrubbery below. But to me it is sweet and grateful! I am in no mood
for pleasant sounds or sights. The dreariness of the night finds its
echo in my heart. The damp breeze cools my forehead! To-night I feel
conscious of a new strength. It is the strength of hate! My mind is
full of dim purposes; time will aid them to gather strength! As they
group themselves together, action will suggest itself. To time I leave
them!

Let me go back to my recital of what passed between us three. A
strange lethargic calm seemed to have fallen upon Paul. He turned to
me without even a single trace of the passion which had lit up his
face a few moments before.

"I must go!" he said quietly. "Farewell!"

I could scarcely believe that he meant it; that he was going away
without another word, at what was really this priest's unspoken
bidding. But it was so. From that moment, the fear of Father Adrian
which had grown up in my heart leaped into a new strength. I was
angry, and full of resistance.

"Why should you go?" I cried. "I have much to say to you!"

"I must go now, Adrea," he answered simply. "When I came I had no
thought of staying. It is late!"

I felt my face grow hot with passion as I turned swiftly round towards
Father Adrian. "It is you who should go," I cried. "Why have you come
here? Why are you always creeping across my life like a dark, noisome
shadow? Go away! Begone! I will not be left with you!"

He turned a shade paler, but he did not sacrifice his dignity, as
I hoped that he would, by answering me with anger. He did not even
answer me at all. He looked over my head at my lover.

"To-morrow night!" he said calmly.

"To-morrow night!" Paul answered.

I stood between them, angry but helpless. A log of wood had just
fallen from the fire on to the hearth, and in its sudden blaze I could
see their faces distinctly. The utter contrast between the two men
threw each into strong relief. Paul, in his scarlet coat and riding
clothes, pale and impassive, but _debonnaire_; and Father Adrian, his
strange black garb mud-bespattered and disordered, and his dark, angry
face livid with the