Paul was moved in spite of himself by the vehemence of his companion's words. The horrors of that deathbed scene at Cruta had never grown dim to him. He had always felt that his father had only decided to keep something back from him in those last moments, after a bitter struggle; and he was now quite sure that whatever it might have been, the secret had been confided to this priest.

"I want to ask you a question," he said. "Whatever this mystery may be to which you are constantly alluding, I am of course ignorant. But you seem to have some understanding with the two women whom we have left this evening. I want to know whether Adrea is concerned in it."

"She is not!"

"Nor Madame de Merteuill?"

"I cannot tell you!"

They were in the Abbey grounds, close to the ruins, and the moorland lay behind them, with its floating mists and vague obscurity. Here the sky was soft and clear, and every pillar amongst the ruins stood out against the empty background of sea and sky. Father Adrian paused.

"I will come no further," he said. "I am a saner man away from your despoiled home. There is just a last word which I have to say to you."

Paul stood still, and listened.

"I have borne much," Father Adrian said, "much tempting and many impulses; but I have zealously put a watch upon my tongue, and I have spared you. For the future, your happiness—nay, your future itself—is in your own hands. I saw your father kill the only relative Adrea had in this world. We saw the deed done, though we have both held our peace concerning it. Paul de Vaux, I am inclined to spare you a great blow which it is in my power to strike. I am inclined to spare you, but I make one hard and fast condition. Adrea is not for you! She must be neither your wife, nor your friend, nor your ward! There must be no dealings, no knowledge between you the one of the other! There is blood between you; it can never be wiped out! The stain is forever. Lift up your hand to heaven, and swear that you will never willingly look upon her face again, or, as God is my master, I will bring upon your name, and your family, and you, swift and everlasting shame!"