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Father Benwell went on.



"Bear in mind what I have just said," he resumed; "and you will

understand why I feel it my duty to press the question which you



have not answered yet. You have found in the Catholic Faith the

peace of mind which you have failed to obtain by other means. If



I had been dealing with an ordinary man, I should have expected

from the change no happier result than this. But I ask You, has



that blessed influence taken no deeper and nobler hold on your

heart? Can you truly say to me, 'I am content with what I have



gained; I wish for no more'?"

"I cannot truly say it," Romayne answered.



The time had now come for speakingplainly. Father Benwell no

longer advanced to his end under cover of a cloud of words.



"A little while since," he said, "you spoke of Penrose as of a

man whose lot in life you longed to share. The career which has



associated him with an Indian mission is, as I told you, only

adapted to a man of his special character and special gifts. But



the career which has carried him into the sacred ranks of the

priesthood is open to every man who feels the sense of divine



vocation, which has made Penrose one of Us."

"No, Father Benwell! Not open to every man."



"I say, Yes!"

"It is not open to Me!"



"I say it is open to You. And more--I enjoin, I command, you to

dismiss from your mind all merely human obstacles and



discouragements. They are beneath the notice of a man who feels

himself called to the priesthood. Give me your hand, Romayne!



Does your conscience tell you that you are that man?"

Romayne started to his feet, shaken to the soul by the solemnity



of the appeal.

"I can't dismiss the obstacles that surround me!" he cried,



passionately. "To a man in my position, your advice is absolutely

useless. The ties that bind me are beyond the limit of a priest's



sympathies."

"Nothing is beyond the limit of a priest's sympathies."



"Father Benwell, I am married!"

Father Benwell folded his arms over his breast--looked with



immovable resolution straight in Romayne's face--and struck the

blow which he had been meditating for months past.



"Rouse your courage," he said sternly. "You are no more married

than I am."



CHAPTER IV.

ON THE ROAD TO ROME.



THERE was not a sound in the room. Romayne stood, looking at the

priest



"Did you hear what I said?" Father Benwell asked.

"Yes."



"Do you understand that I really mean what I said?"

He made no reply--he waited, like a man expecting to hear more.



Father Benwell was alive to the vast importance, at such a

moment, of not shrinking from the responsibility which he had



assumed. "I see how I distress you," he said; "but, for your

sake, I am bound to speak out. Romayne! the woman whom you have



married is the wife of another man. Don't ask me how I know it--I

do know it. You shall have positive proof, as soon as you have



recovered. Come! rest a little in the easy-chair."

He took Romayne's arm, and led him to the chair, and made him



drink some wine. They waited a while. Romayne lifted his head,

with a heavy sigh.



"The woman whom I have married is the wife of another man." He

slowly repeated the words to himself--and then looked at Father



Benwell.

"Who is the man?" he asked.



"I introduced you to him, when I was as ignorant of the

circumstances as you are," the priest answered. "The man is Mr.



Bernard Winterfield."

Romayne half raised himself from the chair. A momentary anger



glittered in his eyes, and faded out again, extinguished by the

nobler emotions of grief and shame. He remembered Winterfield's



introduction to Stella.

"Her husband!" he said, speaking again to himself. "And she let



me introduce him to her. And she received him like a stranger."

He paused, and thought of it. "The proofs, if you please, sir,"



he resumed, with sudden humility. "I don't want to hear any

particulars. It will be enough for me if I know beyond all doubt



that I have been deceived and disgraced."




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