would find in his rugged solitudes?

And Cassandra! The bishop bowed his head and sat with the tips of his
fingers pressed together. The thought of Cassandra weighed heavily upon
him. She had given her promise, with the devotion of her kind, to save;
had truly offered herself a living sacrifice. All hopes for her growth
into the gracious womanhood her inheritance impelled her toward,--her
sweet ambitions for study, gone to the winds--scattered like the
fragrant wild rose petals on her own hillside--doomed by that promise to
live as her mother had lived, and like other women of her kin, to age
before her time with the bearing of children in the midst of toil too
heavy for her--dispirited by privation and the sorrow of relinquished
hopes. Oh, well the bishop knew! He dreaded most to see the beautiful
light of aspiration die out of her eyes, and her spirit grow sordid in
the life to which this untamed savage would inevitably bring her. "What
a waste!"

And again he repeated the words, "What a waste!" The youth looked up,
thinking himself addressed, but the bishop saw only the girl. It was as
if she rose and stood there, dominant in the sweet power of her girlish
self-sacrifice, appealing to him to help save this soul. Somehow, at the
moment, he failed to appreciate the beauty of such giving. Almost it
seemed to him a pity Frale had thus far succeeded in evading his
pursuers. It would have saved her in spite of herself had he been taken.

But now the situation was forced upon the bishop, either to give him up,
which seemed an arbitrary taking into his own hands of power which
belonged only to the Almighty, or to shield him as best he might, giving
heed to the thought that even if in his eyes the value of the girl was
immeasurably the greater, yet the youth also was valued, or why was he
here?

He lifted his head and saw Frale's eyes fixed upon him sadly--almost as
if he knew the bishop's thoughts. Yes, here was a soul worth while.
Plainly there was but one course to pursue, and but one thread left to
hold the young man to steadfast purpose. Using that thread, he would
try. If he could be made to sacrifice for Cassandra some of his physical
joy of life, seeking to give more than to appropriate to himself for his
own satisfaction--if he could teach him the value of what she had
done--could he rise to such a height, and learn self-control?

The argument for repentance having come back to him void, the bishop
began again.