o time, for
she had bitten it savagely. It was her pledge, and the pain of it
reminded her of what she had promised to do.

She needed the reminder; for now that he was not near her, the enormous
crime stood out, black and lofty as death itself. It was different when
Dalrymple was at her side. His violent vitality dragged hers into
action, dragged, drove it, and goaded it, as unwilling soldiers have
been driven into battle in barbarous armies. Then the fatality seemed
irresistible, then the dangers seemed small, and the burning red shame
was pale and weak. Those bony young hands of his had strength in them
for two, his gleaming eyes burnt out the resistance in hers, and lighted
them with their own glow. The hearty recklessness of his unbelief drove
through and through her composite faith, and riddled it with loopholes
for her soul's escape. Then the reality of her passion made her nobler
love mad to be free, and to break through the solid walls in which it
had been born and had grown too strong. When his love was there, hers
matched itself with his, to smite fortune in the face, to dare and
out-dare heaven and hell for love's sake, with him, the bursting blood
made iron of her hand, tingling to buffet coward fate's pale mouth. Then
she was strong above women; then she was brave as brave men; then,
having promised, to keep was but the natural hold of will, to die was
but to dare one little adversary more.

But she was alone now, and thinking, as she looked out into the tragic
night, and watched the blackness of the monumental clouds. She did not
return to her former self, as some women do when the goad leaves the
heart in peace for a moment. She did not say to herself that she would
order the convent gate to be shut on Angus Dalrymple forever, and
herself go back to the close choir, to sit in her seat amongst the rest,
and sing holy songs with the others, restfully unhappy as many of them
were. She knew far too well how strongly her heart could beat, and how
icy cold her hands could grow when love was near her. Yet she shuddered
with horror at what she had promised to do. She would struggle to the
last, but she must yield when she heard his voice, and felt his hand, at
the very last moment, when they should be at the garden gate, he drawing
her on, she looking back.

It was perjury and sacrilege, and earthly shame, and eternal damnation.
Nothing less. And the words had full and deadly meaning for her. It
mattered litt