discuss this utterly preposterous
scheme, nor even to refer to it, except to say that I plainly see its
object. Whatever you have persuaded yourself to think of your plan, I
know that its real object is to reestablish a connection with Sylvia.
You would know, if you would allow yourself to think about it, that your
absurd and even wicked scheme of typewriting, companionship in work, and
all that stuff, could only result in making the girl miserable and
perhaps breaking her heart. You know that she loves you, and that it has
been a terrible trial to her to yield to her conscience and do what she
has done; and you know, furthermore,--and this more than anything else
darkens your intention,--that Sylvia's artless, ingenuous, and impulsive
nature would give you advantages which would not be afforded to you by
one who did not love you, and who better understood the world and you."

"Madam," I exclaimed, "you do me an injustice!"

She paid no attention to this remark, and proceeded: "And now let me
tell you that what you have said to me to-night has changed my plans, my
life. I shall not leave Sylvia exposed to your cruel attacks,--attacks
which I believe will come in every practical form that your ingenuity
can devise. It was my example that brought that girl into the House of
Martha, and now that she has vowed to devote her life and her work to
its service I shall not desert her. I will not have her pure purpose
shaken and weakened, little by little, day by day, until it falls
listless and deadened, with nothing to take its place. Therefore, until
I know that you are no longer a source of danger to her, I shall remain
Mother Superior of the House of Martha, and rest assured that while I am
in that position Sylvia shall be safe from you." And with that she rose
and walked out of the room.

XLIII.

WAS HIS HEART TRUE TO POLL?

Never before had any one spoken to me as Mother Anastasia had just
spoken. Never before had I felt as I felt in leaving the house where she
had spoken to me. I did not admit all that she had said; and yet not
even to myself could I gainsay her statements. I was not convinced that
I had been wrong, but I could not help feeling that she was right. I was
angry, I was mortified, I was grieved. The world seemed cold and dark,
and the coldest and darkest thing in it was the figure of Mother
Anastasia, as she rose to leave me.

When I reached New York, I bethought myself of my promise to Miss
La