"But I was happy while the 'wave' lasted,--and when it broke, I still played on the shore with its pretty foam-bells." "You loved this man ?" and the priest's grave eyes dwelt on her searchingly.
"I suppose so--for the moment! Yet no,--it was not love--it was just an 'attraction'-- he was--he IS--clever, and thinks he can change the face of the world.

But he is fooling with fire! I tell you I tried to help him--for he is deadly poor.

But he would have none of me nor of what he calls my 'vulgar wealth.' This is a case in point where wealth is useless! You see ?" Don Aloysius was silent.
"Then"-- Morgana went on--"Alison is right.

The witchery of the Northern Highlands is in my blood,--never a love for me--alone I am--alone I must be!--never a love for a 'fey' woman!" Over the priest's face there passed a quiver as of sudden pain.
"You wrong yourself, my child"-- he said, slowly--"You wrong yourself very greatly! You have a power of which you appear to be unconscious--a great, a terrible power!--you compel interest--you attract the love of others even if you yourself love no one--you draw the very soul out of a man--" He paused, abruptly.
Morgana raised her eyes,--the blue lightning gleam flashed in their depths.
"Ah, yes!" she half whispered--"I know I have THAT power!" Don Aloysius rose to his feet.
"Then,--if you know it,--in God's name do not exercise it!" he said.
His voice shook--and with his right hand he gripped the crucifix he wore as though it were a weapon of self-defence.

Morgana looked at him wonderingly for a moment,--then drooped her head with a strange little air of sudden penitence.