u, show you its
depths of feeling, frightful depths, I think sometimes, and secure your
pity. God alone, the master of hearts, can do that. I have been generous
to the last farthing. He will not be outdone by me."

"Oh, my God!" she murmured, looking at him in wonder, for his words
sounded insanely to her ear.

"I love you, Honora," he went on, with a flush on his cheek, and so
humble that he kept his eyes on the ground. "Go, in spite of that, if
God demands it. If you can, knowing that I shall be alone, how much
alone no one may know, go nevertheless. Only bear it in mind, that I
shall wait for you outside the convent gate. If you cannot remain
thinking of me, I shall be ready for you. If not here, then hereafter,
as God wills. But you are free, and I love you. Before you go, God's
beloved," and he looked at her then with eyes so beautiful that her
heart went out to him, "you must let me tell you what I have been. You
will pray for me better, when you have learned how far a man can sink
into hell, and yet by God's grace reach heaven again."

CHAPTER XXXIV.

A HARPY AT THE FEAST.

Honora now saw that suffering was not to be avoided. Experience had
taught her how to economize with it. In the wood one day she watched for
minutes two robins hopping about in harmony, feeding, singing now and
then low notes of content from a bough, and always together. A third
robin made appearance on the scene, and their content vanished.
Irritated and uneasy, even angered, they dashed at the intruder, who
stood his ground, confident of his strength. For a long time he fought
them, leaving only at his own pleasure. Longer still the pair remained
unquiet, distressed by the struggle rather than wearied, complaining to
each other tenderly.

Behold a picture of her own mind, its order upset by the entrance of a
new idea. That life of the mind, which is our true life, had to change
its point of view in order to meet and cope with the newcomer. Arthur's
love had the fiber of tragedy. She felt rather than knew its nature. For
years it had been growing in his strong heart, disciplined by steady
buffeting, by her indifference, by his own hard circumstances; no
passion of an hour like Romeo's; more like her father's love for Erin.

Former ideas began to shift position, and to struggle against the
intruder vainly. Some fought in his favor. The vision of convent peace
grew dim. She must take it with tears, and his sorrow would cloud its