'"Our Lady no longer; only a woman like any other,--weak and fickle. Take her,--but begone." '"Take her!" repeated Mitchell, bewildered.--"take our Lady! And where?" '"Fool! Liar! Blockhead!" shouted the crowd below. '"The truth is simply this, Mitchell," continued the Doctor, quietly. "We herewith give you up our Lady,--ours no longer; for she has just confessed, openly confessed, that she loves you." 'Mitchell started back. "Loves me!" '"Yes." 'Black Andy felt the blade of his knife. "He'll never have her alive," he muttered. '"But," said Mitchell, bluntly confronting the Doctor, "I don't want her." '"You don't want her?" '"I don't love her." '"You don't love her?" '"Not in the least," he replied, growing angry, perhaps at himself. "What is she to me? Nothing. A very good missionary, no doubt; but _I_ don't fancy woman-preachers. You may remember that _I_ never gave in to her influence; _I_ was never under her thumb. _I_ was the only man in Little Fishing who cared nothing for her!" 'And that is the secret of _her_ liking,' murmured the Doctor. 'O woman! woman! the same the world over!' 'In the mean time the crowd had stood stupefied. '"He does not love her!" they said to each other; "he does not want her!" 'Andy's black eyes gleamed with joy; he swung himself up on to the platform. Mitchell stood there with face dark and disturbed, but he did not flinch. Whatever his faults, he was no hypocrite. 'I must leave this to-night,' he said to himself, and turned to go. But quick as a flash our Lady sprang from her knees and threw herself at his feet. 'You are going,' she cried. 'I heard what you said,--you do not love me! But take me with you! Let me be your servant--your slave--anything--anything, so that I am not parted from you, my lord and master, my only, only love!' 'She clasped his ankles with her thin, white hands, and laid her face on his dusty shoes. 'The whole audience stood dumb before this manifestation of a great love. Enraged, bitter, jealous as was each heart, there was not a man but would at that moment have sacrificed his own love that she might be blessed. Even Mitchell, in one of those rare spirit-flashes when the soul is shown bare in the lightning, asked himself, 'Can I not love her? But the soul answered, 'No.' He stooped, unclasped the clinging hands, and turned resolutely away.' '"You are a fool," said the Doctor. 'No other woman will ever love you as she does.' '"I know it," replied Mitchell. 'He stepped down from the platform and crossed the church, the silent crowd making a way for him as he passed along; he went out in the sunshine, through the village, down towards the beach,--they saw him no more. 'The Lady had fainted. The men bore her back to the lodge and tended her with gentle care one week,--two weeks,--three weeks. Then she died.