"Crystal," sobbed Fern, and indeed she could scarcely speak for her tears, she was so moved by this pitiful story, "if I were you I would go back to-morrow; how can you, how can you leave him, when he needs you so?"
"I go back to him?" repeated the other girl, mournfully. "I who have blighted his life and darkened his days; who have made his existence a long night? I who have robbed him of the glory of his priesthood, and made him what he is, a wreck of his former self?"
"Yes," was the steady answer. "I would go back to him and be his eyes, though his goodness humbled me in the dust. Ah, Crystal, are you worse than she out of whom the Saviour cast seven devils, and who loved much because much had been forgiven her."
"My darling, I do know," persisted Fern, gently, "and I tell you that it is your duty to go back to Raby, who loves you so. Nay," she continued, as a deep blush rose to Crystal's olive cheek, "he never cared for this Mona--your own words have proved that. Go back to him, and be the light of his eyes, and take his darkness from him, for I see plainly that he will never leave off seeking you, and you only."
Not enjoyment and not sorrow Is our destined end or way; But to act that each to-morrow Finds us further than to-day
In the world's broad field of battle In the bivouac of life Be not like dumb driven cattle, Be a hero in the strife.
As Fern finished her little speech, Crystal hid her face in her hands, but there was no answer--only the sound of a deep-drawn sob was distinctly audible. A few minutes afterward she raised it, and in the moonlight Fern could see it was streaming with tears.
"Do not say any more," she implored; "do you think my own heart does not tell me all that, but I will not go back yet; the flaming sword of conscience still bars my way to my Paradise. Fern, do you know why I have told you my story? It is because I am going away, and I want you to promise me something, and there is no one else I can ask; no, not your mother," as Fern looked surprised at this, "she has enough to trouble her."
"What is it?" asked Fern, rather timidly.
"I am going away," returned Crystal, "and one never knows what may happen. I am young, but life is uncertain. If I never come back, if anything befalls me, will you with your own hands give this to Raby," and as she spoke, she drew from her bosom a thick white envelope sealed and directed, and placed it in Fern's lap. As it lay there Fern could read the inscription: "To be given to the Rev. Raby Ferrers, after my death."