"Pardon me, it must be. I have more money than I can spend--without
Vange. And I have painful associations with the house which disincline
me ever to enter it again."

Even this confession failed to move Father Benwell. He obstinately
crossed his arms, obstinately tapped his foot on the floor. "No!" he
said. "Plead as generously as you may, my answer is, No."

Romayne only became more resolute on his side. "The property is
absolutely my own," he persisted. "I am without a near relation in the
world. I have no children. My wife is already provided for at my
death, out of the fortune left me by my aunt. It is downright
obstinacy--forgive me for saying so--to persist in your refusal."

"It is downright duty, Romayne. If I gave way to you, I should be the
means of exposing the priesthood to the vilest misinterpretation. I
should be deservedly reprimanded, and your proposal of restitution--if
you expressed it in writing--would, without a moment's hesitation, be
torn up. If you have any regard for me, drop the subject."

Romayne refused to yield, even to this unanswerable appeal.

"Very well," he said, "there is one document you can't tear up. You
can't interfere with my making another will. I shall leave the Vange
property to the Church, and I shall appoint you one of the trustees. You
can't object to that."

Father Benwell smiled sadly.

"The law spares me the ungracious necessity of objecting, in this case,"