"You are betraying yourself without knowing it....

It is quite certain you do not love me, you love my brother!" He had caught hold of her wrists and was pressing them with despairing affection as if to compel her to read her heart.

And she continued struggling.

A most loving and tragic contest went on between them, he seeking to convince her by the evidence of facts, and she resisting him, stubbornly refusing to open her eyes.

In vain did he recount what had happened since the first day, explaining the feelings which had followed one upon another in her heart and mind: first covert hostility, next curiosity regarding that extraordinary young priest, and then sympathy and affection when she had found him so wretched and had gradually cured him of his sufferings.