A Monk of Cruta

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

I walked with Paul to the door, holding to his arm, and talking, half-gaily, half-reproachfully, all the way. We stood on the step together while his horse was being brought round, and in the half-lights he stooped down and kissed me. But his manner had changed. Even his lips were cold, and his eyes were no longer bright. There was a far-away look in them, and his face was white and set. There were tears in my eyes as I watched him ride away on his great brown horse, and listened to the distant thunder of hoofs across the moor. His face had told its own story. He was nerving himself to face some expected danger. From whose hands? Surely from Father Adrian's.

The thought worked within me. I stood for a moment, trying to quiet my passion. As I turned away I heard the stable-yard doors open, and a carriage, laden with luggage, drove slowly out, and, without coming to the front at all, turned down the avenue. I ran out, heedless of my slippers, and called to it to stop. The man obeyed me, and I caught it up, breathless. The blinds were closely drawn, but I opened the door. As I expected, it was she who sat inside, closely veiled and weeping.

"You were going, then, without a single word of farewell!" I cried reproachfully. "Is that kind? Have I deserved it from you?"

She threw up her veil. Her eyes were red and swollen with weeping. She looked at me pleadingly.

"Do not blame me more than you can help!" she said. "It was a great shock to me to see you—with the son of Martin de Vaux. It was more than a shock; it was a horror to me! He is like his father! He is very like his father!"

I knew that she had passed through a fiery sea of suffering, and I kept back the anger which threatened me. I pointed upwards.

"We cannot keep the dark clouds from gathering in the sky, nor can we make love come and go at our bidding. We are but creatures; it is fate which ordains!"

She bowed her head. "Fate, or the unknown God! I am not your judge, child! I do not leave you in anger!"

"Why do you go, then, and leave me here alone? It is not kind! It is not what I should expect from you!"

The tears started again into her eyes, but she shook them away. "I cannot explain as yet," she said. "You will think me ungrateful, I fear! I cannot help it! I must go. Farewell, Adrea!"