oor
Viviette to her former cheerfulness but a distraction--a hope--a new
prospect.'

'That is precisely what acceptance of my offer would afford.'

'Precisely,' said Louis, with great respect. 'But how to get her to
avail herself of it, after once refusing you, is the difficulty, and my
earnest problem.'

'Then we are quite at one.'

'We are. And it is to promote our wishes that I am come; since she will
do nothing of herself.'

'Then you can give me no hope of a reply to my second communication?'

'None whatever--by letter,' said Louis. 'Her impression plainly is that
she cannot encourage your lordship. Yet, in the face of all this
reticence, the secret is that she loves you warmly.'

'Can you indeed assure me of that? Indeed, indeed!' said the good Bishop
musingly. 'Then I must try to see her. I begin to feel--to feel
strongly--that a course which would seem premature and unbecoming in
other cases would be true and proper conduct in this. Her unhappy
dilemmas--her unwonted position--yes, yes--I see it all! I can afford to
have some little misconstruction put upon my motives. I will go and see
her immediately. Her past has been a cruel one; she wants sympathy; and
with Heaven's help I'll give it.'

'I think the remedy lies that way,' said Louis gently. 'Some words came
from her one night which seemed to show it. I was standing on the
terrace: I heard somebody sigh in the dark, and found that it was she. I
asked her what was the matter, and gently pressed her on this subject of
boldly and promptly contracting a new marriage as a means of dispersing
the horrors of the old. Her answer implied that she would have no
objection to do it, and to do it at once, provided she could remain
externally passive in the matter, that she would tacitly yield, in fact,
to pressure, but would not meet solicitation half-way. Now, Bishop
Helmsdale, you see what has prompted me. On the one hand is a dignitary
of high position and integrity, to say no more, who is anxious to save
her from the gloom of her situation; on the other is this sister, who
will not make known to you her willingness to be saved--partly from
apathy, partly from a fear that she may be thought forward in responding
favourably at so early a moment, partly also, perhaps, from a modest
sense that there would be some sacrifice on your part in allying yourself
with a woman of her secluded and sad experience.'

'O, there is no sacrifice! Quite othe