When Father Cameril had found Natalie at Eliphalet's tomb, expecting to find Paula, he had received a greater shock than the incident would seem to have required.

He had said to himself it was Fate; but had found that it was not fate that determined a step which he desired to be compelled to take.

That vow of celibacy had been made in ignorance. He was sure, having examined the authorities closely as to this, that a vow taken in ignorance was not binding. Turks were in the habit of vowing enmity to the truth, yet could a Turk do a more praiseworthy deed than break such a vow? He had supposed that celibacy was a good things for priests. He had been wrong. It was a very bad thing. Ought he to continue a wrong course in deference to a vow taken under a misconception? The underlying motive of the vow was the desire to live worthily; since life lived in accordance therewith would be passed less worthily than in opposition to it, the only honest course was to disregard the vow. So argued Father Cameril, unaided by fate, and hence, compelled to fall back on logic.

But fate was to be more propitious than he had feared. Seated on a rock in a distant portion of the grounds, gazing out upon the setting sun, he came upon Paula.

He took the hand she offered and which, as had lately been the case, lingered a little within his own. Then he sat down beside her.

"How beautiful it is," she observed.

"Paula," he said, "I love you. Will you be my wife?"

"Oh!" exclaimed Paula.

Perhaps it was not very reassuring. But it was not a refusal. Her face was rosier than he had ever seen it. Her heart was beating wildly.

"I wanted to be a nun," she faltered.

"I know it," he replied; "and I——"

"Vowed celibacy."

"It is true," he admitted.

And then they sat and looked at where the sun had been.

After awhile Paula arose and said she must go to the house.

He offered his hand.

"May I kiss you?" he said, in a low tone, his face very pale.

"Father Cameril!"

He hung his head. "You despise me," he said, after awhile. "You are right. I despise myself. It is very hard."

"I don't despise you; and you are not to despise yourself," she stammered. "You perplex and confuse me. You astonish me."

"I knew I would," he answered hopelessly. "It is very natural. I wish I had not been born."

"I beg you not to say dreadful things, not to have dreadful thoughts," she exclaimed.

"But I can't help them. If you knew how awful they are sometimes. Dr. Hicks did it, Paula."

"Don't let us talk of it."

"Let us think about it."

"I couldn't."

"Don't you love me?"

"I love everybody. You, and everybody."

"Yes, you are a saint. I am not. I only love you. I only think of you. Morning, noon and night. At Mass; everywhere——"

"Do you, really?" she interrupted.

"I do, really."

She looked at him curiously. It was very nice, indeed, to know that a good man was in the habit of thinking of her so continuously. But——

"You should not think of me in church," she said.

"Of course not. I wouldn't if you were my wife. As it is, you creep into all my thoughts. You are in the prayer-book, in the Bible, in the Life of St. Dunstan, and of St. Thomas (of Canterbury), too. You are everywhere."

"Oh!" said Paula again. This was love indeed.

"But your vow?"

"I can explain that. Vowing under a misconception is not binding. That was the way I vowed."

"On purpose?" she asked, horrified.

"Oh, no. I thought I was doing right."

"Perhaps you were," she said. "If you were, this must be wrong."

"I have examined my own heart closely, very closely."

"Have you been to confession?"

"To whom can I go? The Bishop would not hear me. He is benighted——"

"There's your friend, Father Gordon."

"Oh, Paula, he's only twenty-three."

"But he's a priest."

"But he's under a vow. How can he understand?"

A rapid footstep was heard. "There's Mark!" exclaimed Paula.

Father Cameril tripped quickly away. "You here!" exclaimed Mark, as he came upon Paula. "Isn't it dinner time?"

"It must be," she said, slipping her hand into the arm he offered.

"It was Father Cameril, Mark," she said, after a pause.

"Of course," he replied.

"Why, of course?" she asked, with slow utterance.

He looked down into her face a little quizzically. "Is it not of course?" he asked.

"I—don't—think so," she answered slowly.

"Paula!" He stood confronting her suddenly.

"Well, Mark?"

He laughed, yet looked at her rather seriously. "I thought you were going to be a nun?"

"I am; do you object?"

"I shall be sorry to see it. But——"

"But what?"

"There are other things I would regret more."

She looked into his face. It was a quick, questioning glance, but long enough for him to note her beauty. They went on to the house in silence, but Paula's heart fluttered.