Part 8 (1/2)

”Try me,” said Phelim. ”Would you like the Campanile for a paper-weight?”

”No,” she said, ”not that, but something else. Come here.”

He went to her, and she whispered in his ear.

”I'll bring it you in half an hour, aboard the yacht,” said Phelim, and he started across the Piazza.

Lady Nora went on toward the landing. The earl stood watching her. She did not look back. The earl looked up at the clock-tower. ”In half an hour,” he said to himself, ”he will bring it to her, aboard the yacht;”

and he turned and re-entered the church. He went up the aisle, nodded to the sacristan, entered the treasury, took the turquoise cup, came out with it in his hand, nodded again to the sacristan, went down the steps, crossed the Piazza, ran down the landing-stairs, and jumped into a gondola.

”To the English yacht!” he cried.

He looked at his watch. ”It seems,” he said to himself ”that one can join the criminal cla.s.ses in about six minutes. I've twenty-four the start of Phelim.”

They came alongside the Tara, and the earl sprang up the ladder.

”Lady Nora?” he asked of the quartermaster.

”She is below, my lord. She has just come aboard, and she left orders to show you down, my lord.”

”Me?” exclaimed the earl.

”She didn't name you, my lord;” said the quartermaster, ”what she said was--'A gentleman will come on board soon; show him below.'”

The earl speculated a moment as to whether he were still a gentleman, and then went down the companion-way. He came to the saloon. The door was open. He looked in. Lady Nora was seated at the piano, but her hands were clasped in her lap. Her head was bent and the earl noticed, for the thousandth time, how the hair cl.u.s.tered in her neck and framed the little, close-set ear. He saw the pure outlines of her shoulders; beneath the bench, he saw her foot in its white shoe; he saw, or felt, he could not have told you which, that here was the one woman in all this great world. To love her was a distinction. To sin for her was a dispensation. To achieve her was a coronation.

He tapped on the door. The girl did not turn, but she put her hands on the keys quickly, as if ashamed to have them found idle.

”Ah, Phelim,” she said, ”you are more than prompt; you never keep one waiting,” and she began to play very softly.

The earl was embarra.s.sed. Despite his crime, he still had breeding left him, and he felt compelled to make his presence known. He knocked again.

”Don't interrupt me, Phelim,” she said; ”this is my swan-song; listen;”

and she began to sing. She sang bravely, at first, with her head held high, and then, suddenly, her voice began to falter.

”Ah, Phelim, dear,” she cried, ”I've lost my love! I've lost my love!”

and she put her hands to her face and fell to sobbing.

”Nora!” said the earl. It was the first word he had spoken, and she raised her head, startled.

”Here is the cup, Nora,” he said.

She sprang to her feet and turned to him, tears on her cheeks, but a light in her eyes such as he had never seen.

”Oh, my love,” she cried, ”I should have known you'd bring it.”

”Yes,” he said, ”you should have known.”

She stood, blus.h.i.+ng, radiant, eager, waiting.