VII
The next morning the earl went to the church, as usual. He had not sleptwell. The advent of Phelim had set him to thinking. Here was a rival;and a dangerous one. He admitted this grudgingly, for an Englishman isslow to see a rival in a foreigner, and who so foreign as an Irishman?
At dinner, on the yacht, the night before, Phelim had been much inevidence. His six feet three had impressed the earl's six feet. Phelimhad been well dressed. "Confound him," thought the earl, "he goes toPoole, or Johns & Pegg. Why doesn't he get his clothes at home?" ThenPhelim had talked much, and he had talked well. He had told stories atwhich the earl had been compelled to laugh. He had related experiencesof his home-life, of the peasants, the priests, the clubs, hunting andshooting, his brief stay in Parliament, what he had seen in Veniceduring the last few days; and, when dinner was over, Lady Nora, who hadbeen all attention, said: "Sing for us, Phelim," and they had gonebelow, Phelim stooping to save his head; and he had struck thosemysterious chords upon the piano, by way of prelude, that silence talk,that put the world far away, that set the men to glancing at the women,and the women to glancing at the floor and making sure of theirhandkerchiefs, and then--he had sung.
How can one describe a song? As well attempt to paint a perfume.
When Phelim finished singing Miss O'Kelly went over and kissed him, andLady Nora went away, her eyes glistening.
The earl remembered all these things as he went up the aisle. He hadpassed that way five times each day for nine days. He came to the doorof the treasury, thinking, not of Nora, but of Phelim--and the door wasopen.
He went in. The gorgeous color of the place stopped him, on thethreshold. He saw the broidered vestments upon which gold was the merebackground; jacinths were the stamens of the flowers, and pierceddiamonds were the dewdrops on their leaves; he saw the chalices andpatens of amethyst and jade, the crucifixes of beaten gold, in whichrubies were set solid, as if they had been floated on the molten metal;he saw the seven-light candelabrum, the bobeches of which were slicedemeralds, and then his eyes, groping in this wilderness of beauty,lighted on the turquoise cup.
"My God!" he exclaimed, "she is right. She is selling herself for themost beautiful thing in the world. To steal it is a crime likeCromwell's--too great to be punished," and he put out his hand.
Then, with the cup and Nora within his reach, he heard a still, smallvoice, and his hand fell.
He began to argue with his conscience. "Who owns this cup?" he asked."No one. The cardinal said it had been stolen. He said no one could sellit because no one could give title. Why, then, is it not mine as well asany one's? If I take it, whom do I wrong? Great men have never lettrifles of right and wrong disturb their conduct. Who would ever havewon a battle if he had taken thought of the widows? Who would ever haveattained any great thing if he had not despised small things?" and heput out his hand again; and then came surging into his mind theprovisions of that code which birth, associations, his school life, and,most of all, his mother, had taught him. What would they say and do athis clubs? Where, in all the world, could he hide himself, if he didthis thing? He turned and fled, and, running down the church steps, hecame face to face with Lady Nora and Phelim. They were laughing gayly;but, when they saw the earl's face, their laughter ceased.
"Have you seen a ghost, my lord?" asked Phelim.
The earl did not answer; he did not even hear. He stood gazing at LadyNora. For one brief moment, when he stood before the cup, he hadquestioned whether a woman who would impose such a condition could beworth winning; and now, before her, her beauty overwhelmed him. Heforgot Phelim; he forgot the passers-by; he forgot everything, exceptthe woman he loved--the woman he had lost.
"Nora," he said, "I give you back your promise. I cannot give you thecup."
The color left her cheeks and her hands flew up to her heart--she gazedat him with love and pity in her eyes, and then, suddenly, her cheeksflamed, her white teeth pressed her lower lip, her little foot stampedupon the pavement.
"Very well," she said, "I regret having given you so much trouble;" andshe went toward the landing. She took three steps and then turned. Thetwo men stood as she had left them.
"Phelim," she said, smiling, "_you_ would do something for me, if I wereto ask you, would you not?"
"Try me," said Phelim. "Would you like the Campanile for apaper-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, andhe started across the Piazza.
Lady Nora went on toward the landing. The earl stood watching her. Shedid not look back. The earl looked up at the clock-tower. "In half anhour," 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 tothe sacristan, entered the treasury, took the turquoise cup, came outwith it in his hand, nodded again to the sacristan, went down the steps,crossed the Piazza, ran down the landing-stairs, and jumped into agondola.
"To the English yacht!" he cried.
He looked at his watch. "It seems," he said to himself "that one canjoin the criminal classes in about six minutes. I've twenty-four thestart 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 toshow you down, my lord."
"Me?" exclaimed the earl.
"She didn't name you, my lord;" said the quartermaster, "what she saidwas--'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 doorwas open. He looked in. Lady Nora was seated at the piano, but her handswere clasped in her lap. Her head was bent and the earl noticed, for thethousandth time, how the hair clustered in her neck and framed thelittle, 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 allthis great world. To love her was a distinction. To sin for her was adispensation. To achieve her was a coronation.
He tapped on the door. The girl did not turn, but she put her hands onthe keys quickly, as if ashamed to have them found idle.
"Ah, Phelim," she said, "you are more than prompt; you never keep onewaiting," and she began to play very softly.
The earl was embarrassed. Despite his crime, he still had breeding lefthim, 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 heldhigh, 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 sheraised her head, startled.
"Here is the cup, Nora," he said.
She sprang to her feet and turned to him, tears on her cheeks, but alight 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, blushing, radiant, eager, waiting.
He stood in the doorway, pale, quiet, his arms at his side, the cup inhis hand.
"Nora," he said, "I've brought you the cup, but I do not dare to give itto you. I stole it."
"What?" she cried, running toward him. She stopped suddenly and began tolaugh--a pitiful little laugh, pitched in an unnatural key. "Youshouldn't frighten me like that, Bobby," she said; "it isn't fair."
"It is true," said the earl; "I am a thief."
She looked at him and saw that he was speaking the truth.
"No," she cried, "'tis I am the thief, not you. The ca
rdinal warned methat I was compelling you to this, and I laughed at him. I thought thatyou would achieve the cup, if you cared for me; that you would rendersome service to the State and claim it as your reward--that you wouldmake a fortune, and buy it--that you would make friends at theVatican--that you would build churches, found hospitals, that even theHoly Father might ask you to name something within his gift--I thoughtof a thousand schemes, such as one reads of--but I never thought youwould take it. No, no; I never thought that."
"Nora," said the earl, "I didn't know how to do any of those things, andI didn't have time to learn."
"I would have waited for you, always," she said.
"I didn't know that," said the earl.
"I hoped you didn't," said Lady Nora. "Come!" and she sprang through thedoor. The earl followed her. They ran up the companion-way, across thedeck, down the boarding-stairs. The earl's gondola was waiting.
"To the molo in five minutes," cried Lady Nora to the poppe, "and youshall be rich."
They went into the little cabin. The earl still held the cup in hishand. They sat far apart--each longing to comfort the other--each afraidto speak. Between them was a great gulf fixed--the gulf of sin andshame.
Half-way to the landing, they passed Phelim's gondola, making for theyacht. The cabin hid them and he passed in silence.
"I sent him for some bon-bons," said Lady Nora. "I did it to make youjealous."
They reached the molo in less than five minutes and Lady Nora tossed herpurse to the oarsmen, and sprang out.
"Put the cup under your coat," she said. The earl obeyed. He had stolenit openly. He brought it back hidden. They crossed the Piazza as rapidlyas they dared, and entered the church. The sacristan greeted them with asmile and led the way to the treasury.
"They haven't missed it yet," whispered Lady Nora.
The sacristan unlocked the outer and the inner door, bowed, and leftthem.
Lady Nora seized the cup and ran to its accustomed shelf. She had herhand outstretched to replace it, when she uttered a cry.
"What is it?" exclaimed the earl.
She did not answer, but she pointed, and the earl, looking where shepointed, saw, on the shelf--the turquoise cup.
They stared at the cup on the shelf--at the cup in Lady Nora'shand--and at each other--dumfounded.
They heard a limping step on the pavement and the cardinal came in. Hisface was very grave, but his voice was very gentle.
"My children," he said, "I prayed God that you would bring back the cup,but, _mea culpa_, I lacked faith, and dared not risk the original. WouldGod let Nora Blake's granddaughter make shipwreck? The cup you have, mychild, is but silver-gilt and glass, but it may serve, some other day,to remind you of this day. Look at it when your pride struggles withyour heart. Perhaps the sight of it may strengthen you. Take it, not asthe present of a cardinal, or an archbishop, but as the wedding-gift ofan old man who once was young, and once knew Nora Blake."
"A wedding-gift?" exclaimed Lady Nora. "What man would ever marry such awretch as I?"
"Nora!" cried the earl; and he held out his arms.
"My pigeons are waiting for me," said the cardinal; and he went away,limping.
The Turquoise Cup, and, the Desert Page 7