was in words of practical good sense, but in tones of
love; and she, being one of those feminine women who catch the tone they
are addressed in, and instinctively answer in tune, and, moreover,
seeing no ill, but good, in the _subject_ of their conversation, replied
sometimes, unguardedly enough, in accents almost as tender.

In truth, if Love was really a personage, as the heathens feigned, he
must have often perched on a tree in that quiet grove, and chuckled and
mocked, when this man and woman sat and murmured together, in the soft
seducing twilight, about the love of God.

And now things had come to a crisis. Husband and wife went about the
house silent and gloomy, the ghosts of their former selves; and the
priest sat solitary, benighted, bereaved of the one human creature he
cared for. Day succeeded to day, and still she never came. Every morning
he said, "She will come to-day," and brightened with the hope. But the
leaden hours crept by, and still she came not.

Three sorrowful weeks went by; and he fell into deep dejection. He used
to wander out at night, and come and stand where he could see her
windows with the moon shining on them: then go slowly home, cold in
body, and with his heart aching, lonely, deserted, and perhaps
forgotten. O, never till now had he known the utter aching sense of
being quite alone in this weary world!

One day, as he sat drooping and listless, there came a light foot along
the passage, a light tap at the door, and the next moment she stood
before him, a little paler than usual, but lovelier than ever, for
celestial joy softened her noble features.

The priest started up with a cry of joy that ought to have warned her;
but it only brought a faint blush of pleasure to her cheek and the
brimming tears to her eyes.

"Dear father and friend," said she. "What! have you missed me? Think,
then, how I have missed _you_. But 't was best for us both to let their
vile passions cool first."

Leonard could not immediately reply. The emotion of seeing her again so
suddenly almost choked him.

He needed all the self-possession he had been years acquiring not to
throw himself at her knees and declare his passion to her.

Mrs. Gaunt saw his agitation, but did not interpret to his
disadvantage.

She came eagerly and sat on a stool beside him. "Dear father," she said,
"do not let their insolence grieve you. They have smarted for it, and
_shall_ smart till they make their submission to you, an