masters,'" and he sighed heavily, and sat dejected, his chin upon his breast. "And then?" I inquired. "Some months went by," he said. "She was aware how deeply I had the welfare of the poor in my parish at heart, and in order, I suppose, to please me, she enrolled herself as a helper. Instead of pleasing me, however, this action of hers caused me loathing. I saw that she had only done this in order to be nearer me; that her pretence of religious fervour was feigned, in order that her actions might not appear irregular to the outside world. Ours was a mutual love, yet no word of affection had ever passed our lips. But I could not bear to be a party to this masquerade. A woman who took up arduous duties like she did, merely because `slumming,' as it was called, happened to be the fashionable craze of the moment, was in no way fitted to become the wife of one whose duty lay ever in the homes of the suffering and needy. I tried to shake off her acquaintance, to discourage her, to frighten her by exaggerated stories of infectious disease, but she would not listen. She was determined, she declared, `to work for the Church,' and encouraged by the vicar, continued to do so. I strove to live down my increasing admiration for her, but could not. Time after time I treated her with unpardonable rudeness, but she merely smiled, and was more tenacious than ever, until at last, in sheer desperation, I resigned, and came here. Now you know all the truth, Clifton," he added, in a lower tone. "I came down here to escape her!" "And yet you are ready to again return to London--you want to get back again," I observed. "Ah! yes!" he sighed, the dark look still upon his face. "It is my test. I have to choose between love and duty." "And you choose the latter?" "I am trying to do so. With God's help I hope to succeed," he answered, in a hoarse voice. "If love proves too strong, then I fall back to the level from which I have striven to rise--the level of the ordinary man." "But are you certain you were not mistaken in the object of the lady in joining the work in which you were engaged? May not she have been determined to become self-sacrificing in the holy cause, just as you were?" "No," he answered very decisively, "I cannot believe it. There were facts which were suspicious." "What kind of facts?" "In various ways she betrayed her insincerity of purpose," he answered. "Her friends were wealthy, and the vicar was acute enough to see that if she were encouraged she would bring additional funds to the church. But the poor themselves, always quick to recognise true sincerity, very soon discerned that she visited them without having their welfare at heart, and consequently imposed upon her." There was nothing sanctimonious or puritanical about Jack Yelverton. The words he uttered came direct from his faithful, honest heart.