ou are a priest,
and very much a priest, and I am a woman, and very much a woman!
For the past I am grateful; for its sake I forget the insults of the
present. Now go!"

I knew quite well that he would not take me at my word, nor did he.

"Adrea, I cannot go and lose all knowledge of you for ever," he said
sadly. "For my own sake I would say, Would to God that I could! but it
is impossible. Within me there is a voice which whispers 'Fly,' but
I cannot; your future is still as dear to me as in the old days. Oh!
Adrea! I have sorrowed and mourned lest our last parting had been for
ever, and now, alas! I would that it had been; I would to God that I
had never found you out!"

"You can forget it," I said coldly.

"I can never forget it," he answered fiercely. "Girl! you seem to me
sometimes like a scourge! Your memory is a very nightmare of sin! You
have brought me nothing but pain and remorse and anguish of heart. For
all my suffering there is no brighter side; yet I cannot forget it!"

Despite his fierce words, which for a moment had burned in my ears,
I pitied him. In the old days he had been my champion, and it was his
hand, together with hers, which had aided my escape from Cruta. So I
spoke to him softly.

"I am sorry! As I said, we are of different moulds, and we belong to a
different branch of humanity. We are neither of us inclined to change!
Let us go our own ways, and apart!"

He was close by my side now, and his hand was resting on the back of
my chair. I laid mine upon it for a moment; it was cold as ice, and
shaking. The old madness was upon him indeed.

"You were kind to me at Cruta," I continued. "I do not forget it, and
I thank you for it! But we are as far apart as the poles, and we must
continue so."

The position between us seemed reversed. He stood by my side, pale and
passionate, with his clear eyes full of a strange wistfulness.

"All that you say is, in a measure, true," he said in a low tone; "yet
do not send me away from you! Some day you may see things differently;
some day trouble may come to you, and I may be your helper! There
is only one thing: I would have you look upon me as a brother, and I
would have you give me a brother's confidence."

"I would gladly be friends with you," I answered, "only do not seek
more than I choose to tell you. As for the things you charge me with,
there is truth and falsehood in them. It is true that I have earned
my living by dancing, but it has bee