"Methinks I have but loved you more since I have vowed ne'er to be your wife," said Primrose sadly. Then, flinging herself into his arms, she sobbed convulsively. "Oh, Percival, do not doubt me! To all eternity you are my one and only love! You weep, Percival? Oh, my God, this is verily the bitterness of death!" And in the presence of such utter woe the bright mid-day sun veiled his face beneath a fleecy cloudlet, and the very birds hushed their song, and built in silence their nests amid the thorn bushes. And presently, in the mysterious stillness of the lonely mountains, it seemed to the chaplain that a voice spoke sweetly in his ear, and said in wondrous loving accents; "As thou hast been granted to bear in thy mortal frame a mark of My human likeness, so shalt thou be likewise accounted worthy to bear in thy soul the mark of My sufferings. Take up thy cross and follow Me." And the chaplain fell on his knees by the dim, dark lake, and bowed his head in mute submission, rising presently, weary as a child from his bitter conflict, yet conscious within himself of the dawning of a strange new strength. He turned away in silence, took Shanno's hand, and mechanically they descended together the steep hillside towards the farm. On the threshold he stopped, and looked long and earnestly into her face. "Sweetheart," he said, "my heart is rent in twain with sorrow, and in the selfishness of my own grief I have forgotten yours, and suffered my own weak tears to open afresh those wounds with which your tender heart yet bleeds. But have a little patience with me, sweet one, and you shall presently see me strong and brave to aid these weary feet of yours along the stony path which we must tread in mutual sacrifice of our earthly love, yet which perchance the light of a holy friendship may gladden beyond our struggling hearts' present power to conceive. Fain would I overcome by all the arguments love can offer the decision you have made, yet my secret conscience, warring against my rebellious heart, sternly bids me take up the cross you have already laid upon your own tender shoulders, and bear it ever bravely at your side. For love of me, dear heart, I see these golden locks, alas, already sprinkled with grey! For love of you I will henceforth strive to bury in my own breast the woe you bid me bear, and help you with all the strength God gives me to walk worthily in that solitary path He has called you to tread for His sake." "Then you do indeed truly forgive me, and believe in your heart I have done well?" cried Primrose. "Oh, Percival, my love, my love, in my heart of hearts I know my vow is right in the sight of God, and can I but know also that it is right in your dear eyes, I can bear the rest!"