est had dealt me my death-blow, I had not yet begun to
feel it, so I smiled up into his troubled old face and said:

"But how can the Church think that, dear Father? My husband has no
rights over me now, and no duties or responsibilities with respect to
me. He can marry again if he likes. And he will, I am sure he will, and
nobody can prevent him. How, then, can the Church say that I am still
his wife?"

"Because marriage, according to the law of the Church, can only be
dissolved by death," said Father Dan. "Haven't I told you that before,
my daughter? Didn't we go over it again and again when you were here the
last time?"

"Yes, yes, but I thought if somebody else sought the divorce--somebody
who had never believed in the indissolubility of marriage and wasn't
bound by the law of the Church . . . we've heard of cases of that kind,
haven't we?"

Father Dan shook his head.

"My poor child, no. The Church thinks marriage is a sacred covenant
which no difference of belief, no sin on either side, can ever break."

"But, Father," I cried, "don't you see that the law has already broken
it?"

"Only the civil law, my daughter. Remember the words of our blessed and
holy Redeemer: '_Every one that putteth away his wife and marrieth
another committeth adultery; and he that marrieth one that is put away
committeth adultery.'_ . . . My poor child, my heart bleeds for you, but
isn't that the Divine Commandment?"

"Then you think," I said (the room was becoming dark and I could feel my
lip trembling), "you think that because I went through that marriage
ceremony two years ago . . . and though the civil law has dissolved it
. . . you think I am still bound by it, and will continue to be so . . .
to the end of my life?"

Father Dan plucked at his cassock, fumbled his print handkerchief, and
replied:

"I am sorry, my child, very, very sorry."

"Father Dan," I said sharply, for by this time my heart was beginning to
blaze, "have you thought about Martin? Aren't you afraid that if our
Church refuses to marry us he may ask some other church to do so?"

"Christ's words must be the final law for all true Christians, my
daughter. And besides. . . ."

"Well?"

"Besides that. . . ."

"Yes?"

"It blisters my tongue to say it, my child, knowing your sufferings and
great temptations, but. . . ."

"But what, dear Father?"

"You are in the position of the guilty party, and therefore no good
clergyman of any Christian Church