le that he should think differently, being of another
faith, or rather, of no faith at all. It was all true to her. It was not
risk; it was certainty. What forgiveness had earth or heaven for a
faithless nun? He talked of marriage, and he would marry her according
to a rite that had a meaning in his eyes. Heaven would not divorce the
sworn and plighted spouse of Christ to be the earthly wife of Angus
Dalrymple.

Visions of eternal torment rose in her mind, a tangible searing hell
alive with flame and devils, a sea of liquid fire, an ocean of boiling
pitch, Satan commanding in the midst, and a myriad of fiends working his
tormenting will.

Her pale lips curled scornfully in the dark. Those were not the terrors
that frightened her, nor the horrors from which she shrank. There was a
question which was not to be answered by her own soul in damnation or
salvation, but by the lips of men hereafter--the question of the honour
of her name. The traditions of the good old barons were not dead in that
day, nor are they all dead yet. Many a Braccio had done evil deeds in
his or her day, and one, at least, had evil deeds to do after Maria
Addolorata had been laid in her grave. But sin was one thing, and
dishonour was quite another, even in the eyes of the nun of Subiaco. For
her sins she could and must answer with the weal or woe of her own
soul. But her dishonour would be upon her father and her mother and upon
all her race. Nor was there any dishonour deeper, more deadly, or more
lasting than that brought upon a stainless name by a faithless nun.
Maria Braccio hesitated at disgrace, while Maria Addolorata smiled at
perdition. It was not the first time that honour had taken God's part
against the devil in the history of her family.

That was the great obstacle of all, and she knew it now. She was able to
face all consequences but that, terrible as they might be. The barrier
was there, the traditional old belief in honour as first, and above
every consideration. They had played upon that very belief, when, at the
last, she had hesitated to take the veil. She had gone so far, they had
told her, that it would be cowardly and dishonourable to turn back at
the last minute. The same argument existed now. Then, she would at least
have had human right and ecclesiastical law on her side, if she had
refused to become a nun. Now, all was against her. Then, she would have
had to face but the condemning opinion of a few who spoke of implied