“But it does,” I said.  “And we can’t alter it.  No, no, I dare not break the law of the Church.  I am a weak, wretched girl, but I cannot give up my religion.”

After that Martin did not speak for a moment.  Then he said: 

“You mean that, Mary?”

“Yes.”

And then my heart accused me so terribly of the crime of resisting him that I took his hand and held his fingers in a tight lock while I told him—­what I had never meant to tell—­how long and how deeply I had loved him, but nevertheless I dared not face the thought of living and dying without the consolations of the Church.

“I dare not!  I dare not!” I said.  “I should be a broken-hearted woman if I did, and you don’t want that, do you?”

He listened in silence, though the irregular lines in his face showed the disordered state of his soul, and when I had finished a wild look came into his eyes and he said: 

“I am disappointed in you, Mary.  I thought you were brave and fearless, and that when I showed you a way out of your miserable entanglement you would take it in spite of everything.”

His voice was growing thick again.  I could scarcely bear to listen to it.

“Do you suppose I wanted to take up the position I proposed to you?  Not I. No decent man ever does.  But I love you so dearly that I was willing to make that sacrifice and count it as nothing if only I could rescue you from the misery of your abominable marriage.”

Then he broke into a kind of fierce laughter, and said: 

“It seems I wasn’t wanted, though.  You say in effect that my love is sinful and criminal, and that it will imperil your soul.  So I’m only making mischief here and the sooner I get away the better for everybody.”

He threw off my hand, stepped to the door to the balcony, and looking out into the darkness said, between choking laughter and sobs: 

“Ellan, you are no place for me.  I can’t bear the sight of you any longer.  I used to think you were the dearest spot on earth, because you were the home of her who would follow me to the ends of the earth if I wanted her, but I was wrong.  She loves me less than a wretched ceremony, and would sacrifice my happiness to a miserable bit of parchment.”

My heart was clamouring loud.  Never had I loved him so much as now.  I had to struggle with myself not to throw myself into his arms.

“No matter!” he said.  “I should be a poor-spirited fool to stay where I’m not wanted.  I must get back to my work.  The sooner the better, too.  I thought I should be counting the days down there until I could come home again.  But why should I?  And why should I care what happens to me?  It’s all as one now.”

He stepped back from the balcony with a resolute expression on his gloomy face, and I thought for a moment (half hoping and half fearing it) that he was going to lay hold of me and tell me I must do what he wished because I belonged to him.