elf, and came in,
overwhelming his guards and his barriers like a strong flood in the
spring-time of the year, breaking down all artificial contrivances.
"They reckon ill who leave me out," is the everlasting cry of the human
heart, the great passion of life, incarnate in the first man and the
first woman.

With a supreme effort of his iron will--is the Will, after all, stronger
than Love?--Father Damona rose. He stretched out his hand to say
farewell. She also stood, and she felt the hand tremble that held hers.

"God bless you!" he said. "You are so good."

He was going. He took her other hand, and was looking down upon her
face. She looked up, and their eyes met. It was for an instant, a flash,
glance for glance, as swift as the stab of daggers.

All the power of heaven and earth could not recall that glance nor undo
its revelations. The man and the woman stood face to face revealed.

He bent down towards her face. Affrighted by his passion, scarcely
able to stand in her sudden emotion, she started back. The action, the
instant of time, recalled him to himself. He dropped her hands, and was
gone. And the woman, her knees refusing any longer to support her, sank
into a chair, helpless, and saw him go, and knew in that moment the
height of a woman's joy, the depth of a woman's despair.

It had come to her! Steeled by her science, shielded by her
philanthropy, schooled in indifference to love, it had come to her! And
it was hopeless. Hopeless? It was absurd. Her life was determined. In no
event could it be in harmony with his opinions, with his religion, which
was dearer to him than life. There was a great gulf between them which
she could not pass unless she ceased to be herself. And he? A severe
priest! Vowed and consecrated against human passion! What a government
of the world--if there were any government--that could permit such a
thing! It was terrible.

And yet she was loved! That sang in her heart with all the pain, with
all the despair. And with it all was a great pity for him, alone, gone
into the wilderness, as it would seem to him, to struggle with his
fierce temptation.

It had come on darker as she sat there. The lamps were lighted, and she
was reminded of some visits she must make. She went, mechanically, to
her room to prepare for going. The old jacket, which she took up,
did look rather rusty. She went to the press--it was not much of a
wardrobe--and put on the one that was reserved for holidays