"Then listen to me, for it is my turn to speak. When, eight months ago, you sought the shelter of that blessed roof, it was for refuge from a woman that had cursed your life. It was given you. You would leave it now to commit an act that would bring another woman, as mad as yourself, clamoring at its doors for protection from YOU. For what you are proposing to this innocent girl is what you accepted from the older and wickeder woman. You have been cursed because a woman divided for you what was before God an indivisible right; and you, Diego, would now redivide that with another, whom you dare to say you LOVE! You would use the opportunity of her helplessness and loneliness here to convince her; you would tempt her with sympathy, for she is unhappy; with companionship, for she has no longer the world to choose from--with everything that should make her sacred from your pursuit." "Enough," said Hurlstone hoarsely; "say no more. Only I implore you tell me what to do now to save her. I will--if you tell me to do it--leave her forever." "Why should YOU go?" said the priest quietly. "HER absence will be sufficient." "HER absence?" echoed Hurlstone. "Hers alone. The conditions that brought YOU here are unchanged. You are still in need of an asylum from the world and the wife you have repudiated. Why should you abandon it? For the girl, there is no cause why she should remain--beyond yourself. She has a brother whom she loves--who wants her--who has the right to claim her at any time. She will go to him." "But how?"