east, the other on the base of a
crucifix that stood by the wall. When she saw that he had followed her,
her first impulse was to shrink away; her second was to sink to her
knees at his feet. She did neither. Conquering her faintness, but still
quivering from head to foot, she turned upon him with a defiant look.
"Why do you come here? I do not wish to speak with you. Let me pass,"
she said.

Hugh Ritson made no effort to detain her. He stood before her with
downcast eyes, his infirm foot bent under him. "I come to bid you
farewell," he said, calmly; "I come to say that we meet no more."

"Would that we had parted forever before we met the last time!" said
Greta, fervently.

"Would that we had never met!" said Hugh, in a low voice.

"That was a lie with which you parted me from my husband," she said.

"It was--God forgive me."

"And you knew it was a lie?" said Greta.

"I knew it was a lie."

"Then where is your shame, that you can look me in the face? Have you no
shame?" she said.

"Have you no pity?" said Hugh.

"What pity had you for me? Have you not done me wrong enough already?"

"God knows it is true. And He knows I am a miserable man. Have pity and
forgive me, and say farewell!"

Something of contrition in the tone touched her. She was silent.

"The preacher was wrong," he said. "There is no spirit of evil. We are
betrayed by our own passions, and the chief of those passions is love.
It is the Nemesis that stalks through the world, haunting all men, and
goading some to great wrong."

"It was of your doing that I came here," said Greta.

"Would to God it may be of my doing that you remain here," said Hugh.

"That is a prayer He will not hear. I am leaving this house to-night.
There is some one coming who can unmask your wicked falsehood."

"Parson Christian?" said Hugh.

Greta made no answer, and Hugh continued, "His journey is needless. A
word from my mother would have done all. She is in this house."

"Yes, Heaven forgive you, she is here!" said Greta.

"You are wrong; you do not know all. Where is your husband?"

Greta shook her head. "I have neither seen him nor heard from him since
we parted at these doors," she said.

"And when you leave them to-night, do you leave him behind you?" said
Hugh.

"Heaven forbid!" said Greta, passionately.

Hugh Ritson's bloodless face was awful to look upon. "Greta," he said,
in a tone of anguish, "give up the thought. Look on that false union as