m the lash.

'But you must face all this; and better it is to do it now.' In his
eyes, which she could not see, there was a great compassion, but his
face, tense and quivering, showed no relenting.

She raised her head from the table, forced back the tears, struggled
for control.

'I shall go away. They will never see me, and come to forget me. I
shall be to them as dead. And--and I will go with Clyde--today.' It
seemed final. Wharton stepped forward, but the priest waved him back.

'You have wished for children?' A silent 'Yes.' 'And prayed for them?'
'Often.' 'And have you thought, if you should have children?' Father
Roubeau's eyes rested for a moment on the man by the window.

A quick light shot across her face. Then the full import dawned upon
her. She raised her hand appealingly, but he went on.

'Can you picture an innocent babe in your arms? A boy? The world is not
so hard upon a girl. Why, your very breast would turn to gall! And you
could be proud and happy of your boy, as you looked on other
children?--' 'O, have pity! Hush!' 'A scapegoat--'

'Don't! don't! I will go back!' She was at his feet.

'A child to grow up with no thought of evil, and one day the world to
fling a tender name in his face. A child to look back and curse you
from whose loins he sprang!'

'O my God! my God!' She groveled on the floor. The priest sighed and
raised her to her feet.

Wharton pressed forward, but she motioned him away.

'Don't come near me, Clyde! I am going back!' The tears were coursing
pitifully down her face, but she made no effort to wipe them away.

'After all this? You cannot! I will not let you!' 'Don't touch me!' She
shivered and drew back.

'I will! You are mine! Do you hear? You are mine!' Then he whirled upon
the priest. 'O what a fool I was to ever let you wag your silly tongue!
Thank your God you are not a common man, for I'd--but the priestly
prerogative must be exercised, eh? Well, you have exercised it. Now get
out of my house, or I'll forget who and what you are!' Father Roubeau
bowed, took her hand, and started for the door. But Wharton cut them
off.

'Grace! You said you loved me?' 'I did.' 'And you do now?' 'I do.' 'Say
it again.'

'I do love you, Clyde; I do.' 'There, you priest!' he cried. 'You have
heard it, and with those words on her lips you would send her back to
live a lie and a hell with that man?'

But Father Roubeau whisked the woman into the inner room and closed the
door