pirit against the
world; truly, you will need no other if you go forth from us into a
world of strangers--but why, why need you go?"

He spoke gently, but insistently. He saw that the girl was hanging upon
his every word as if he bespoke her eternal salvation. And, in truth,
the priest was illumining the dark and hidden places of her life and
giving her courage to love on which, to her, meant courage to live
on.--Such were the demands of a nature, loyal, impulsive, warmly
affectionate, sincere, capable of an all-sacrificing love that could
give without return if need be, but a nature which, without love
developing in her of itself just for the sake of love, would shrivel,
become embittered, and like withered fruit on a tree drop useless to the
ground to be trodden under the careless foot of man.

In the darkening room the firelight leaped and showed to Father Honore
the woman's face transfigured under the powerful influence of his words.
She smiled up at him--a smile so brave in its pathos, so winning in its
true womanliness, that Father Honore felt the tears bite his eyeballs.

"Perhaps I don't need to go then."

"This rejoices me, Aileen--it will rejoice us all," he answered heartily
to cover his emotion.

"But it won't be easy to stay where I am."

"I know--I know; you speak as one who has suffered; but has not Champney
suffered too? Think of his home-coming!"

"Yes, he has suffered--in a way--but not my way."

Father Honore had a vision at that moment of Champney Googe's face when
he said, "But you loved her with your whole manhood." He made no reply,
but waited for Aileen to say more if she should so choose.

"I believed he loved me--and so I told him my love--I shall never, never
get over that!" she exclaimed passionately. "But I know now--I knew
before he went away the last time, that I was mistaken; no man could
say what he did and know even the first letter of love."

Her indignation was rising, and Father Honore welcomed it; it was a
natural trait with her, and its suppression gave him more cause for
anxiety than its expression.

"He didn't love me--not really--"

"Are you sure of this, Aileen?"

"Yes, I am sure."

"You have good reason to know that you are telling a fact in asserting
this?"

"Yes, altogether too good a reason." There was a return of bitterness in
her answer.

Father Honore was baffled. Aileen spoke without further questioning.
Evidently she was desirous of making her posi