ll begin to make love to her! Eh, eh! that is the
American fashion. Ah, pardon!" he continued, in response to a gesture
of protestation from Hurlstone; "I am wrong. It is when we have told her
that we cannot marry her as a Protestant, that we will make love as a
Catholic. Is that it?"

"Hear me," said Hurlstone passionately. "You have saved me from madness
and, perhaps, death. Your care--your kindness--your teachings have given
me life again. Don't blame me, Father Esteban, if, in casting off my old
self, you have given me hopes of a new and fresher life--of"--

"A newer and fresher love, you would say," said the Padre, with a sad
smile. "Be it so. You will at least do justice to the old priest, when
you remember that he never pressed you to take vows that would have
prevented this forever."

"I know it," said Hurlstone, taking the old man's hand. "And you will
remember, too, that I was happy and contented before this came upon me.
Tell me what I shall do. Be my guide--my friend, Father Esteban. Put me
where I was a few months ago--before I learned to love her."

"Do you mean it, Diego?" said the old man, grasping his hand tightly,
and fixing his eyes upon him.

"I do."

"Then listen to me, for it is my turn to speak. When, eight months ago,
you sought the shelter of that blessed roof, it was for refuge from a
woman that had cursed your life. It was given you. You would leave it
now to commit an act that would bring another woman, as mad as yourself,
clamoring at its doors for protection from YOU. For what you are
proposing to this innocent girl is what you accepted from the older and
wickeder woman. You have been cursed because a woman divided for you
what was before God an indivisible right; and you, Diego, would now
redivide that with another, whom you dare to say you LOVE! You would use
the opportunity of her helplessness and loneliness here to convince
her; you would tempt her with sympathy, for she is unhappy; with
companionship, for she has no longer the world to choose from--with
everything that should make her sacred from your pursuit."

"Enough," said Hurlstone hoarsely; "say no more. Only I implore you tell
me what to do now to save her. I will--if you tell me to do it--leave
her forever."

"Why should YOU go?" said the priest quietly. "HER absence will be
sufficient."

"HER absence?" echoed Hurlstone.

"Hers alone. The conditions that brought YOU here are unchanged. You
are still in need of an a