Evening star., 1907-09-01
Christine stared. "My dear child!" she

Christine stared. "My dear child!' she
protested, "the priest isn't to marry you to
the ambassador, l suppose! No? Well,
then-after all the talk-rd better CO."
Mary looked at her in desperation: she
felt the force Of the argument, but knew
that curiosity and not decorum prompted
it. Then for heavens sake, hurry, and
get some clothes on, Christine, the man is
dying!' she said.
"Oh. 1t won't take me minute Chris
tine assured her; I'm just put on that
fichu wore when Madame Syrene dined
the cardinal and the delegate. Sam said
the women all wore black tides and told
the truth for two hours"
Portucarreros motor-car had been sent
for Mary, and 1t wheeled under the
porte-cochere Of the embassy a servant
opened the hall door, All was silence; the
front of the house was masked and dark
save for the lights in Portucarrero's private
suite of apartments and the light which
hung like star in the vestibule, shedding
it's rays down on the broad stone steps be-
low. The tall, black-clad figure of the
priest led the way, and the two women in
their light evening gowns with their cloaks
thrown hastily over their shoulders fol-
lowed him across the hall and up the broad
stairs to the second floor. There he left
them in kind Of ante-room. which was
furnished entirely in red from the floor to
ceiling. and contained, amongst other fur
niture, a beautiful prie-dieu Of rosewood,
inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Christine
looked at 1t curiously with a shrug of her
shoulders.
DO you suppose he was a religieux %
she asked in whisper, with such eX-
preston Of incredulity that 1t almost drew
a smile from Mary. ut doesn't always
follow she added comfortably, after
moment. I've got friend who is a terrible
unbeiever and has ten rosaries. five cruc
fixes and a church andlestick-that some
one stole out in the Philippines.
Mary did not reply; she had a singular
feeling that for long time she had been
walking in a dream and was now about to
awake. AS Christines whispers died away
the silence of the house became appalling;
not even clock licked within earshot, and
the heavy crimson portieres which closed
the door upon the gallery swung gently
now and then as though touched by an un-
seen hand. There was no window in this
alcove, and the noises Of the street dead
ened by the bark strewn in front of the en-
bassy, fell short and left the stiffness un-
broken.
Christine began to pale under the ordeal
so visibly that the little touches of color
stood out on her cheeks in vivid patches.
IF something doesn't happen soon l shall
scream!'' she whispered with a nervous
shudder. DO you suppose he's dead?"
Mary shook her head and made a sign to
her to be silent. She had heard step
coming softly across the hall. 1t was
Father Chaudiere; he was a lean man with
that priestly type of face which seems to
have been especially created for the role
He crossed the room to Mary, who had
risen at his entrance.
1T is a great misfortune" he said sim
ply, 1.-The ambassador is again unconscious.
His physicians tell me that he suffered
relapse just after sending for you and that
he cannot live an hour. 1t is perhaps not
timely for me to tell you, yet | feel it my
duty the priest continued. He formally
and legally acknowledged you this evening
as his daughter. He was married to your
mother thirty-two years ago today in Paris
in the sacristy of the church of St Fran
co.'s Xavier-and you are his only child and
his heiress. Your true name is therefore
Maria Francesca Luisa Quevedo, Countess
Portucarrero."
Christine Jerome sank back in her chair
with a gasp of surprise, but Mary seemed
unmoved except for her ext{eme pallor.
II should like to see my father before he
dies" she said softly.
Father Chaudiere seemed prepared for
this request, for without a word he turned
and led the way through the crimson por- 1
there; they passed down a long hall and
into a softly lighted room. 1t was large
and richly luxurious, the great bedstead oc-
cupied one end of it. and on one side Were