me, the wine has done you no good; you're as
pale as ever. Is it that priest? Oh, pooh, pooh, leave Father Benwell to
me."

CHAPTER IV.

IN THE SMALL HOURS.

WHEN Stella left the conservatory, the attraction of the ball for
Romayne was at an end. He went back to his rooms at the hotel.

Penrose was waiting to speak to him. Romayne noticed signs of suppressed
agitation in his secretary's face. "Has anything happened?" he inquired.

"Nothing of any importance," Penrose answered, in sad subdued tones. "I
only wanted to ask you for leave of absence."

"Certainly. Is it for a long time?"

Penrose hesitated. "You have a new life opening before you," he said.
"If your experience of that life is--as I hope and pray it may be--a
happy one, you will need me no longer; we may not meet again." His voice
began to tremble; he could say no more.

"Not meet again?" Romayne repeated. "My dear Penrose, if _you_ forget
how many happy days I owe to your companionship, _my_ memory is to be
trusted. Do you really know what my new life is to be? Shall I tell you
what I have said to Stella to-night?"

Penrose lifted his hand with a gesture of entreaty.

"Not a word!" he said, eagerly. "Do me one more kindness--leave me to be
prepared (as I am prepared) for the change that is to come, without
any confidence on your part to enlighten me further. Don't think me
ungrateful. I have reasons for saying what I have just said--I cannot
mention what they are--I can only tell you they are serious reasons.
You have spoken of my devotion to you. If you wish to reward me a
hundred-fold more than I deserve, bear in mind our conversations on
religion, and keep the books I asked you to read as gifts from a friend
who loves you with his whole heart. No new duties that you can undertake
are incompatible with the higher interests of your soul. Think of me
sometimes. When I leave you I go back to a lonely life. My poor heart is
full of your brotherly kindness at this last moment when I may be saying
good-by forever. And what is my one consolation? What helps me to bear
my hard lot? The Faith that I hold! Remember that, Romayne. If there
comes a time of sorrow in the future, remember that."

Romayne was more than surprised, he was shocked. "Why must you leave
me?" he asked.

"It is best for you and for _her,_" said Penrose, "that I should
withdraw myself from your new life."

He held out his hand. Romayne refused to let him go. "Penrose!" he sa