Part 32 (1/2)

”He was mighty human when he came to see us at the New Willard. Don't you remember how he forgot himself--even had tears in his eyes when he referred to the dead d.u.c.h.ess and the fact that she was better off in her grave than she would have been at court? His wife had taken a genuine liking to Ruth, and the man himself was more than half convinced that she was all she claimed to be, but he wasn't free to release her. He now wants to make reparation--but he wants also to support the idea that Ruth Atheson was only the _friend_ of the dead d.u.c.h.ess and, therefore, that the d.u.c.h.ess is really dead. It would be very unfortunate, if, later on, it should prove that he had been deceived. He would find it difficult to explain matters to His Majesty if a Grand d.u.c.h.ess, supposedly dead, should suddenly prove very much alive and demand possession of a throne already occupied by her successor. So His Excellency wants the lady married as 'Ruth Atheson'

with due solemnity and with proper witness. There is method, Mr.

Saunders, even in his kindness.”

Saunders whistled again. ”It beats me, Father,” he said. ”I own up.

They know more than detectives.”

At this moment Mark came striding over the lawn.

”h.e.l.lo, Saunders,” he called. ”I've been looking for you. Now that I've got you, I might as well have it out and be done with it. Ruth wants you to stay here. She wants to make you one of us. We are going to Ireland for six months, and then we're coming back to live here part of each year. We want you to take charge of Killimaga. I've bought it. A good salary--no quarreling or d.i.c.kering about it. What do you say?”

”This is certainly a surprise,” said Saunders, winking at the Padre.

”Have you room for an extra family?”

”You're married?”

”Very much so.”

”The bigger the family the better. But,” he added, as an afterthought, ”I'll have to tell Ruth, or she'll be trying to marry you off. You'll come, then?”

”Yes,” said Saunders, ”I guess I'll take you up on that.”

Mark shook hands with him. ”Done. You're a good old chap. I thought you would stay.”

Then, turning to Father Murray, Mark spoke more seriously. ”Don't you think, Father, that it is almost time to meet the Bishop? He is coming on the next train, you know.” He paused and seemed momentarily embarra.s.sed. Then he straightened up and frankly voiced his thought.

”Before he comes, will you not step into the church with me? I have a lot of things to straighten out.”

The priest stood up and put his hand on Mark's shoulder. ”Do you mean that, my boy?”

”I do,” replied Mark. ”I told you in Was.h.i.+ngton that I never pa.s.sed an open church door that my mind did not conjure up a beckoning hand behind it, and that I knew that some day I should see my mother's face behind the hand. I have seen the face. It was imagination, perhaps--in fact, I know it must have been--but it was mother's face--and I am coming home.”

The last words were spoken softly, reverently, and together the priest and the penitent entered the church.

CHAPTER XXII

RUTH'S CONFESSION

Late that afternoon Mark sat alone in the great library at Killimaga, his head thrown back, his hands grasping the top of his chair. His thoughts were of the future, and he did not hear the light footsteps behind him. Then--two soft arms stole lightly around his neck, and Ruth's beautiful head was bowed until her lips touched his forehead.

It was a kiss of benediction, speaking of things too holy for words.

He covered her hands with his own. ”Ruth.” The tones breathed a world of love.

”I am so happy,” she murmured.

He started to rise, but one small hand, escaping from his grasp, rested on his head and held him firmly.

”I have a great deal to tell you, Mark. But first I want you to know how happy I am that you have come back to Mother Church. I have been praying so hard, Mark, and I should have been miserable had you refused to return. Our union would never have been perfect without full harmony of thought, and we might have drifted apart. But I am happy now.” Lightly her fingers stroked his brow and twined among his curls.

He arose and, clasping her hands in both his own, he gazed down into her eyes.