ren."

This astonishing speech had much effect upon Pauline, who commenced
weeping; the priest's voice--always a beautiful one--had dropped with a
mournful cadence on the four last words, and Crabbe did not reply.

"Who can do more than that?" resumed the _cure_. "But that I cannot
offer. Such care and worship, such devotion and tenderness I may not
give. What then! I can at least be the instrument which shall shape
her future career. I can point the way and deliver her from all these
temptations of the world, the flesh and the devil. I do so now. I ask
her to renounce the world now, at this moment, and to enter upon a new
life to which it shall be my high and glorious privilege to introduce
her."

The subtlety of the priest saved him. The noble melancholy of his
words and gestures was abundantly convincing, and suddenly the
situation, at one time threatening to become unpleasantly melodramatic,
became normal. The reversion to the light commonplaces and glib
phrases of society was felt in Crabbe's careless tones as he spoke of
the weather, adding:--

"'Tis never too late to be polite. I'm putting my watch back into my
pocket, and I'll go with you, Father Rielle. My refuge--a temporary
one--is no longer needed, it's lightening very considerably, and I
suppose you'll be going on to Clairville."

"But what am I to do?" exclaimed Pauline. "I would rather not be left
here alone!"

"I am afraid you must make up your mind to that. Poussette's horse is
hardly fit to be driven. Let Father Rielle take him to the Manor House
and then come back for you with one of the others."

This was agreed upon, the two men left at once and for the space of ten
or fifteen minutes she was alone. At the end of that time she could
hear footsteps on a rapid run, and soon Edmund Crabbe re-entered the
barn. The cool air had invigorated him, and he flung off his cap and
faced her.

"I could not leave you in that summary fashion, after so long," he
said, "after so long, Pauline! Well--I have lived to be of some
service to you--or so I think. Whether Platonic or not, you had better
not encourage his reverence to that extent again, do you hear? A
veritable Cassius of a man! And, by the way, you are looking very well
just now, lady dear. I never saw you handsomer, Pauline!"

Miss Clairville's colour, already high, leaped more redly in her cheeks
and she trembled; the ancient power that this man held over her, the
ring of h