"The romance may not be ended yet," Mrs. Morison suggested smilingly. "Who knows but the missing nurse will some day turn up with the missing will." "I'm afraid that after a dozen years there's little enough chance of it." His mind was so racked upon this wretched question of the right of a priest to marry, that he could not rest until he had drawn from Berenice also an expression of opinion on the subject. He made Mr. Strathmore again the excuse for the introduction of the topic. "I don't see," he said to her, "how you can think that it's well to have a married bishop. His wife is sure to be meddling in the affairs of the diocese." She looked at him with a mocking glance. "Do you wish to drag me into a discussion of the wisdom of allowing the clergy to have wives?" she asked cruelly. He flushed with confusion, but tried to carry a bold front. "Very likely it does come down to the general principle of the thing," he answered. "Well then, the question of the marriage of the clergy doesn't interest me in the least." She looked so pretty and mischievous that he began to lose his head. "But it is of the greatest possible interest to me," he returned, with a manner which gave the words a personal application. She flushed in her turn, and tossed her head. "That is by no means the same thing," she retorted. "But what interests me you might try to consider; just out of charity, of course." "Oh, well, then, since you ask me, this celibacy of the clergy of our church isn't at all a thing that anybody can take seriously. Everybody knows that a clergyman may have his vows absolved by the bishop, so that after all he can marry if he wants to; so that the whole thing seems"-- "Well?" he demanded, as she broke off. "Seems how?" "Pardon me. I didn't realize what I was saying." "Seems how?" he repeated insistently. He challenged her with his eyes, and he could see the spark which kindled defiantly in hers. She threw back her head saucily. "Well, since you insist! I was going to say that it made the whole thing seem a little like amateur theatricals." He became grave instantly. "I beg your pardon," he said. "You do not seem to understand that what you are speaking of may mean the bitter sacrifice of a man's whole life. Even a clergyman is human, and may love as strongly, as completely"-- He choked with the emotion he could not control. He realized that he was telling his passion, and there came to him an overwhelming sense that he must never tell it save in this indirect manner. He hastened on lest she should interrupt him.