An ideal light had been cast upon her commonplace existence, the depths
of her own nature had been revealed to herself. In this illuminating
light she walked about in the misery of this world. This love must be
denied, this longing of the heart for companionship could never be
gratified, yet after all it was a sweet self-sacrifice, and the love
itself brought its own consolation. She had not to think of herself as
weak, and neither was her lover's image dimmed to her by any surrender of
his own principle or his own ideal. She saw him, as she had first seen
him, a person consecrated and set apart, however much she might disagree
with his supernatural vagaries--set apart to the service of humanity.
She had bitter thoughts sometimes of the world, and bitter thoughts of
the false system that controlled his conduct, but never of him.
It was unavoidable that she should recall her last interview with him,
and that the image of his noble, spiritual face should be ever distinct
in her mind. And there was even a certain comfort in this recollection.
Father Damon had indeed striven, under the counsel of his own courage and
of Brother Monies, to conquer himself on the field of his temptation.
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