It happened that soon after Thomas came He paid us frequent visits in our home. They grew more frequent; it was evident That to Cecilia his whole heart went out. We did not marvel that this should be so. But, knowing our girl's nature, it was long Ere we could think that she returned his love. Her life was well nigh one continuous prayer, And almost all society she shunned. Yet ever doth it now appear more clear That to this stranger she hath giv'n her heart. And as things are, we feel ourselves compelled Not to oppose the wishes of our child; Thomas she loves, and she would marry him. FIRST PRECEPTOR (with faltering movements): Why runs this marriage counter to thy will? KEANE: My lord, there is no need for me to tell Of my devotion to the brotherhood. My heart would have to bear a heavy load If my child's love, in its entirety, Were cast upon the side of those who say That you and I alike are heretics. The monk who now o'er yonder abbey rules Close by our home, and who doth ever seek To thwart the mission of the brotherhood, Hath won dominion o'er our daughter's soul. As long as she is still beneath my roof So long shall I too not abandon hope That she may yet again retrace the path Which leads from spirit-darkness unto light. But I shall have to give her up for lost When she shall have become the wife of one Who, like herself, works for the weal of man According to the precepts of that monk. His Reverence hath had complete success In foisting such opinions as he holds On Thomas, who receives them in full faith. A thrill of terror would run over me To hear the curses pour from Thomas' lips Whene'er we spake about the brotherhood. FIRST PRECEPTOR: Our enemies are many; if one more Is added it cannot affect us much. Thy words have not yet made it clear to me What my concern is with this tale of love. KEANE: My lord, thou seest this packet in mine hand. Its contents warrant me to come to thee. My wife and I alone have read the lines: None else in these parts knows a word of them. Now must they be made known to thee as well-- The maid who passeth for our flesh and blood Is not the offspring of my wife and me. We undertook the training of the child When her own mother died. What I have still To say will make it seem unnecessary, To tell at length how all this came to pass. For long we knew not who her father was; The girl today knows not her parentage. Father and mother she beholds in us. And such a state of things might have gone on Since we do love her as our very own. But some years later than her mother's death The papers that I hold were brought to us; They make it plain who our child's father is. I cannot tell if he is known to thee. (The Preceptor loses control over himself.)