Johnson made no further attempt to leave. He sat down again. He was too much taken aback to speak. Yet mechanically he repeated the words of Miss Arnott, as if the more clearly to convey their meaning to his mind.  
"You paid my debts? For what reason, may I ask?"
 
"Because I love you!"
 
"How did you know that I owed money?" inquired the minister, ignoring the , which, in truth, confused him beyond measure.
 
Miss Arnott smiled. "Your indebtedness is everybody's secret," she replied quietly. "Your servant found some accounts which you carelessly left lying about, and, as servants will, she talked about them freely. I could not but hear something of this gossip. In fact, I heard you were in difficulties. I wondered how best I could help you. I that the first thing to do was to obtain a list of your liabilities--without your knowledge, of course."
 
"Why so? Had you spoken openly to me----"
 
"You would not have accepted my help. Oh! believe me, I know your proud nature. Not even your devotional life has had any effect upon that. At least you would have wanted to know my reason for wishing to help you, and that I could not have given you at that time, for you stood well with the world then. I can tell it to you now--in one word. Love! My love for you!"
 
"The love of one for another, I hope."
 
"No! it is not." Miss Arnott struck her breast . Her whole attitude now was reminiscent of her early profession. "It is the love of a woman for a man--the passion which, once in her lifetime, is born in the breast of every mortal woman--ay, and of every man. It is no artificial creation of Christianity."
 
"You speak wickedly," said the minister, and shocked.
 
"I speak humanly--as a woman whose life's happiness is at stake. Do not misunderstand me, Mr. Johnson. I joined your knowing full well that it was for the of my soul. I was called to grace, and I left my life of amusement and worldly vanities. But the old is here--here," and she struck her breast again. "For ten years have I laboured to the evil of my past life. But I have laboured in vain. When I saw you, I--I loved you. Even my faith seemed as nothing then, beside the hope of becoming your wife: your wife--your wife; let me say it. You came between me and my Creator, try as I would to you from my thoughts. In vain, in vain; all in vain were my prayers. Nature was, nature is, too strong for me. I love you. I love you--let all else go!"
 
"Miss Arnott, I really cannot listen to this," said Johnson. Her absolute abandonment scandalized and pained him. He rose to go.
 
"Sit down!" she said, imperiously. "We must understand each other. First, then, let us discuss your position, and see how best you can escape the danger which threatens you. I may be able to help you."
 
"I don't think so." Johnson shook his head . Nevertheless, he resumed his seat.
 
"We shall see. A woman's wit can oftentimes achieve more than a man's . That order for women to be silent was a mistake on the part of St. Paul. Nine men out of ten owe what is best in their lives to the advice of their wives or their mothers. Tell me how matters stand with you."
 
"Believe me, I am glad to make you my confidante, Miss Arnott. God knows I need a friend."
 
"I am your friend--more than your friend. Have I not proved at least my desire for your welfare? Trivial, perhaps, of itself, my action in paying your bills shows that. It was I who placed the receipts on your study table."
 
Johnson looked up quickly. "Then it was you who took away the bills?"
 
"It was I," rejoined Miss Arnott, composedly; "what else could I do? It was necessary that I should have a list of your . So I watched at your window to see where you left your accounts. I came through the fence which divides your house from mine; you know it is broken in several parts."
 
"Then it was your footsteps I heard?"
 
"It was, Mr. Johnson. I saw you looking at the pearls and your accounts. I feared lest in your great stress you might be to sell that girl's treasure. I to have those bills. On hearing my step you came out, and left them on the table."
 
"Yes, I did. But I could not see you."
 
"Of course not. The moment I saw you move I stepped back into my own grounds. You replaced the pearls in the bag. When you looked round I was behind the fence watching you. Then when I saw you go out and into the street, I seized my opportunity. I ran in quickly and took the bills. I copied the names and addresses of your creditors, with the amounts owing to each, and a day or so later I restored the accounts during your absence. Then I went to London and paid every one of them. Your creditors one and all promised me absolute silence. And one day I watched my opportunity and placed the receipts on your desk."
 
He looked gloomily at the woman. She seemed to attach but little importance to what she had done. There was nothing about her now. She told it quite simply. He kept looking at her.
 
"You have done me a kindness," he said, "and I thank you for it. But by doing it you have unconsciously added to the difficulties of my position. It is known that my debts have been paid. I am suspected of having stolen Bithiah's pearls in order to pay them. How am I to this?"
 
"Easily enough. I can tell the congregation of Bethgamul what I have told you."
 
"That may me in part, Miss Arnott. But I shall be by the congregation for having accepted aid from a woman--a stranger, so to speak."
 
"There are two answers to that," replied Miss Arnott, quietly. "In the first place, I aided you without your knowledge. In the second, you have only to tell the congregation that I am your promised wife, and no one of them can say a word!"
 
Johnson became agitated. "I cannot say that you are my promised wife," he said. "I cannot lie to them."
 
"Why need it be a lie? Can you not marry me?"
 
"But--but I do not love you!"
 
"You must learn to love me. Such a passion as mine surely deserves some return. You would not be the most ungrateful of men. Have I not done my best to serve you?"
 
"I did not ask you to."
 
"You and I alone know that, Mr. Johnson. No one else does. If I choose to confess the truth to the congregation you will be ; if I say you accepted my help wittingly and willingly, there is nothing for you to do but to your position by saying that I am to marry you."
 
"Miss Arnott, you place me in a most difficult position."
 
"Be just. I also show you the way out of it."
 
"A way I cannot--I dare not take," said the minister, .
 
Then the woman's passion got the better of her. She rose, furious. "Yet you dare to slight me--you reject my love which has saved you from disgrace! Oh, I know well that you loved Bithiah--that wretched heathen creature! But she is dead. And I am glad that she is dead, for now there can be no hope for your mad passion. You must forget her. You must marry me. You shall marry me!"
 
"I will not!" said Johnson, rising in his turn, and speaking every word distinctly. "You overstep the bounds of , Miss Arnott. I do not love you. I never could love you. My heart is buried in the grave of Tera."
 
The woman turned pale, and sank back into her chair.
 
"Then is all my wickedness in vain," she moaned.
 
"What do you mean?" asked the minister. He was struck by the of the phrase.
 
"You know well what I mean. I have fought that woman for you, and she has beaten me. Once she was out of the way, I thought I could win you for myself. It seems I was wrong. Yet what can you do without me? Your good name is gone; you are suspected of murdering the girl, of robbing her, and of paying your debts with the wages of your sin. Do you think the congregation will keep you as preacher? No; you will be cast out of the fold. You will be disgraced and penniless. Where will you go? What will you do--without a name, without money? I am rich; I can save you. But you refuse my help!"
 
"God will help me," said Johnson, moving towards the door. "He knows I am innocent."
 
"Will God help me?" cried Miss Arnott, wildly. "He knows that I am not innocent. Go, go! Leave me to reap the harvest of my . I have loved you too well; and this--this is my reward. Leave me, I say. Go!"<............