"And yet you love her!" I remarked, amazed. "That's just it. My admiration of her grace and beauty ripened into love before I was aware of it. I struggled against it, but became overwhelmed. Had she not feigned sincerity and taken up the work that I was doing, I should, I believe, have proposed marriage to her. But her action in trying to appear solicitous after the welfare of the sick, when I knew that her thoughts were all of the world, caused me a revulsion of feeling which ended in my resignation and escape." "Escape!" I echoed. "One would think that you had fled from some feared catastrophe." "I did fear a catastrophe," he declared. "I feared that I should marry and become devoted to my wife, instead of to my Master. Ah! Clifton, mine is a strange, a very strange position. You may think my words extremely foolish, but you cannot understand the circumstances aright. If you did, you would see why I acted as I have done." "You acted quite wisely, I think," said I. "None could blame you for seeking a country curacy in such circumstances. To be thus run after by a woman is positively sickening." "Ah, there you are mistaken!" he exclaimed quickly. "She didn't run after me. It was I who, attracted by her beauty, showed her by my actions that I loved her. From the first it was my own fault entirely. I have only myself to reproach." "But you cannot actually reproach yourself, if you are still fond of her." "Fond of her? I adore her!" he cried. "I only wish I did not. Have I not told you how I've fought against this feeling? Yet what's the use of striving against the deepest and most overwhelming passion in the world?" "Could you not be happy with her, and yet live as upright, honest, and holy a life as you now do?" I suggested. "Does not the holy proverb say that a man who takes a wife obtains favour with the Lord?" "Yes," he answered. "But as I have explained, it is easier for the man to devote himself to religious work when he is single than when he has a wife to occupy his thoughts. He must neglect the one or the other. Of that I am convinced. Besides, I have vowed to God to serve Him alone, and with His assistance I will do so. I will!" and his hands clenched themselves in the fierceness of his words. Next day I drove my sister into Stamford, and having put up at that well-known old hostelry, the George, she went to do some shopping while I sauntered forth determined to make what inquiries I could of Muriel's whereabouts. All her relatives were in ignorance. One of them, an aunt, had received a brief note saying that she had left Madame Gabrielle's, and would send her new address. But she had not done so. From place to place I went, ever with the same question upon my lips, but ever receiving a similar reply. Muriel was utterly lost to all, as to me.