He led his companion up the stairway. Halfway up, Lorison caught him by the sleeve. 'Remember,' he gasped, 'I love that woman.'
'You desired to know.
'I -- Go on.'
The priest reached the landing at the top of the stairway. Lorison, behind him, saw that the illuminated space was the glass upper half of a door opening into the lighted room. The rhythmic music increased as they neared it; the stairs shook with the mellow vibrations.
Lorison stopped breathing when he set foot upon the highest step, for the priest stood aside, and motioned him to look through the glass of the door.
His eye, accustomed to the darkness, met first a blind- ing glare, and then he made out the faces and forms of many people, amid an extravagant display of splendid robings -- billowy laces, brilliant-hued finery, ribbons, silks and misty drapery. And then he caught the mean. ing of that jarring hum, and he saw the tired, pale, happy face of his wife, bending, as were a score of others, over her sewing machine -- toiling, toiling. Here was the folly she pursued, and the end of his quest.
But not his deliverance, though even then remorse struck him. His shamed soul fluttered once more before it retired to make room for the other and better one. For, to temper his thrill of joy, the shine of the satin and the glimmer of ornaments recalled the disturbing figure of the bespangled Amazon, and the base duplicate histories it by the glare of footlights and stolen diamonds. It is past the wisdom of him who only sets the scenes, either to praise or blame the man. But this time his love over- came his scruples. He took a quick step, and reached out his hand for the doorknob. Father Rogan was quicker to arrest it and draw him back.
'You use my trust in you queerly,' said the priest sternly. 'What are you about to do?'
'I am going to my wife,' said Lorison. 'Let me pass.'
'Listen,' said the priest, holding him firmly by the arm. 'I am about to put you in possession of a piece of knowledge of which, thus far, you have scarcely proved deserving. I do not think you ever will; but I will not dwell upon that. You see in that room the woman you married, working for a frugal living for herself, and a generous comfort for an idolized brother. This building belongs to the chief costumer of the city. For months the advance orders for the coming Mardi Gras festivals have kept the work going day and night. I myself secured employment here for Norah. She toils here each night from nine o'clock until daylight, and, besides, carries home with her some of the finer costumes, requiring more delicate needlework, and works there part of the day. Somehow, you two have remained strangely ignorant of each other's lives. Are you convinced now that your wife is not walking the streets?'
'Let me go to her,' cried Lorison, again struggling, 'and beg her forgiveness!'
'Sir,' said the priest, 'do you owe me nothing? Be quiet. It seems so often that Heaven lets fall its choicest gifts into hands that must be taught to hold them. Listen again. You forgot that repentant sin must not comprom- ise, but look up, for redemption, to the purest and best. You went to her with the fine-spun sophistry that peace could be found in a mutual guilt; and she, fearful of losing what her heart so craved, thought it worth the price to buy it with a desperate, pure, beautiful lie. I have known her since the day she was born; she is as innocent and unsullied in life and deed as a holy saint. In that lowly street where she dwells she first saw the light, and she has lived there ever since, spending her days in generous self-sacrifice for others. Och, ye spalpeen!' continued Father Rogan, raising his finger in kindly anger at Lorison. 'What for, I wonder, could she be after making a fool of hersilf, and shamin' her swate soul with lies, for the like of you!'
'Sir,' said Lorison, trembling, 'say what you please of me. Doubt it as you must, I will yet prove my gratitude to you, and my devotion to her. But let me speak to her once now, let me kneel for just one moment at her feet, and -- '
'Tut, tut!' said the priest. 'How many acts of a love drama do you think an old bookworm like me capable of witnessing? Besides, what kind of figures do we cut, spying upon the mysteries of midnight millinery! Go to meet your wife to-morrow, as she ordered you, and obey her thereafter, and maybe some time I shall get forgive- ness for the part I have played in this night's work. Off wid yez down the shtairs, now! 'Tis late, and an ould man like me should be takin' his rest.'
'AUNT ELLEN,' said Octavia, cheerfully, as she threw her black kid gloves carefully at the dignified Persian cat on the window-seat, 'I'm a pauper.'
'You are so extreme in your statements, Octavia, dear,' said Aunt Ellen, mildly, looking up from her paper.
'If you find yourself temporarily in need of some small change for bonbons, you will find my purse in the drawer of the writing desk.'
Octavia Beaupree removed her hat and seated herself on a footstool near her aunt's chair, clasping her hands about her knees. Her slim and flexible figure, clad in a modish mourning costume, accommodated itself easily and gracefully to the trying position. Her bright and youthful face, with its pair of sparkling, life-enamoured eyes, tried to compose itself to the seriousness that the occasion seemed to demand.
'You good auntie, it isn't a case of bonbons; it is abject, staring, unpicturesque poverty, with ready-made clothes, gasolined gloves, and probably one o'clock dinners all waiting with the traditional wolf at the door. I've just come from my lawyer, auntie, and, 'Please, ma'am, I ain't got nothink 't all. Flowers, lady? Buttonhole, gentleman? Pencils, sir, three for five, to help a poor widow?' Do I do it nicely, auntie, or, as a bread-winner accomplishment, were my lessons in elocution entirely wasted?'
'Do be serious, my dear,' said Aunt Ellen, letting her paper fall to the floor, 'long enough to tell me what you mean. Colonel Beaupree's estate -- '
'Colonel Beaupree's estate,' interrupted Octavia, emphasizing her words with appropriate dramatic ges- tures, 'is of Spanish castellar architecture. Colonel Beaupree's resources are -- wind. Colonel Beaupree's stocks are -- water. Colonel Beaupree's income is -- all in. The statement lacks the legal technicalities to which I have been listening for an hour, but that is what it means when translated.'
'Octavia!' Aunt Ellen was now visibly possessed by consternation. 'I can hardly believe it. And it was the impression that he was worth a million. And the De Peysters themselves introduced him!'
Octavia rippled out a laugh, and then became properly grave.
'De mortuis nil, auntie -- not even the rest of it. The dear old colonel -- what a gold brick he was, after all! I paid for my bargain fairly -- I'm all here, am I not? -- items: eyes, fingers, toes, youth, old family, unques- tionable position in society as called for in the contract no wild-cat stock here.' Octavia picked up the morning paper from
