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——"