"You have not considered that the deletion you intend will
destroy my father," she said quietly.
"There is my Christian duty to consider," answered he, but
without boldness now.
"Perhaps. But there is something you must set against it. Have
you no duty as a lover--no duty to me?"
"No earthly duty can weigh against a spiritual obligation. . . ."
"Ah, wait! Have patience. You have not well considered, that is
plain. In coming here in secret you wronged my father. You will
not trouble to deny it.
"Jointly we wronged him, you and I. Will you then take advantage
of something learnt whilst you were hiding there like a thief
from the consequences of what you did, and so do him yet this
further wrong?"
"Must I wrong my conscience?" he asked her sullenly.
"Indeed, I fear you must."
"Imperil my immortal soul?" He almost laughed.
"You talk in vain."
"But I have something more than words for you." With her left
hand she drew upon the fine gold chain about her neck, and
brought forth a tiny jewelled cross. Passing the chain over her
head, she held it out.
"Take this," she bade him. "Take it, I say. Now, with that sacred
symbol in your hand, make solemn oath to divulge no word of what
you have learnt here tonight, or else resign yourself to an
unshriven death.
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