ne, words are
useless at such a time as this. My acts shall speak for me. I am too
agitated to say more. Let us talk of something else--let us have some
wine."

He filled the glasses; he offered more biscuits.--he was really, and
even perceptibly, agitated by the victory that he had won. But one
last necessity now confronted him--the necessity of placing a serious
obstacle in the way of any future change of purpose on the part of
Romayne. As to the choice of that obstacle, Father Benwell's mind had
been made up for some time past.

"What _was_ it I had to say to you?" he resumed "Surely, I was speaking
on the subject of your future life?"

"You are very kind, Father Benwell. The subject has little interest
for me. My future life is shaped out--domestic retirement, ennobled by
religious duties."

Still pacing the room, Father Benwell stopped at that reply, and put his
hand kindly on Romayne's shoulder.

"We don't allow a good Catholic to drift into domestic retirement, who
is worthy of better things," he said. "The Church, Romayne wishes to
make use of you. I never flattered any one in my life, but I may say
before your face what I have said behind your back. A man of your strict
sense of honor--of your intellect--of your high aspirations--of your
personal charm and influence--is not a man whom we can allow to run to
waste. Open your mind, my friend, fairly to me, and I will open my
mind fairly to you. Let me set the example. I say it with authority; an
enviable future is before you."

Romayne's pale cheeks flushed with excitement. "What future?" he asked,
eagerly. "Am I free to choose? Must I remind you that a man with a wife
cannot think only of himself?"

"Suppose you were _not_ a man with a wife."

"What do you mean?"

"Romayne, I am trying to break my way through that inveterate reserve
which is one of the failings in your character. Unless you can prevail
on yourself to tell me those secret thoughts, those unexpressed regrets,
which you can confide to no other man, this conversation must come to an
end. Is there no yearning, in your inmost soul, for anything beyond the
position which you now occupy?"

There was a pause. The flush on Romayne's face faded away. He was
silent.

"You are not in the confessional," Father Benwell reminded him, with
melancholy submission to circumstances. "You are under no obligation to
answer me."

Romayne roused himself. He spoke in low, reluctant tones. "I am afraid
t