"It cannot fail unless the laws of nature fail!"—said Morgana, emphatically—"How strange it is that neither of you seems to realise that the force which moves the 'White Eagle' is natural force alone! However—you are but men!" Here she stopped in her walk, and her brilliant eyes flashed from one to the other—"Men!—with pre-conceived ideas wedged in obstinacy!—yes!—you cannot help yourselves! Even Father Aloysius—" she paused, as she met his grave eyes fixed full upon her.
"Well!" he said gently—"What of Father Aloysius? He is 'but man' as you say!—a poor priest having nothing in common with your wealth or your self-will, my child!—one whose soul admits no other instruction than that of the Great Intelligence ruling the universe, and from whose ordinance comes forth joy or sorrow, wisdom or ignorance. We are but dust on the wind before this mighty power!—even you, with all your study and attainment are but a little phantom on the air!"
She smiled as he spoke.
"True!" she said—"And you would save this phantom from vanishing into air utterly?"
"I would!" he answered—"I would fain place you in God's keeping,"—and with a gesture infinitely tender and solemn, he made the sign of the cross above her head—"with a prayer that you may be guided out of the tangled ways of life as lived in these days, to the true realisation of happiness!"
She caught his hand and impulsively kissed it.
"You are good!—far too good!" she said—"And I am wild and wilful—forgive me! I will say good night here—we are just at the gate. Good night, Marchese! I promise you shall fly with me to the East—I will not go alone. There!—be satisfied!" And she gave him a bewitching smile—then with another markedly gentle "Good night" to Aloysius, she turned away and left them, choosing a path back to the house which was thickly overgrown with trees, so that her figure was almost immediately lost to view.
The two men looked at each other in silence.
"You will not succeed by thwarting her!"—said Aloysius, warningly.
Rivardi gave an impatient gesture.