"It must be as he says," I acknowledged regretfully. "We can but depart."
She arose slowly to her feet, her eyes still sadly pleading. The père gazed questioningly into both our faces, the rigid lines of his mouth softening.
"My daughter," he said, in calm dignity, "we of a desert priesthood are ordained unto strange duties, and unusual privileges. Do you love this man?"
A wave of color surged into her cheeks, as she gave one rapid glance aside into my face. Then she answered in all simplicity:
"Yes, père, from childhood."
Resting upon his crutch, he touched her with his hand.
"Yet he who perished yonder was your husband. How came you thus to marry, with your heart elsewhere?"
"It was the desire of my father, and the will of the Church."
He bowed his head, his lips moving in silent prayer for guidance.
"Then the will of the Church hath been done," he said humbly. "Here in the wilderness we perform the will of God, untrammelled by the councils of men. 'T is my dispensation to bury the dead, baptize the living, and join in marriage those of one heart. It is not meet that you two journey together except with the solemn sanction of Holy Church."