confirmed when Stafford, a moment afterward, turned to Kate Bernard, who
sat on his left hand, and was soon deep in reminiscences of old visits
to the Manor, with which Kate contrived to intermingle a little flattery
that Stafford recognized only to ignore. They had known one another well
in earlier days, and Kate was immensely pleased at finding her
playfellow both famous and not forgetful.

Eugene looked on from his seat at the foot of the table with silent
wonder. Here was a man who might and indeed ought to talk to Claudia,
and yet was devoting himself to Kate.

"I suppose it's on the same principle that he takes water instead of
champagne," he thought; but the situation amused him, and he darted at
Claudia a look that conveyed to that young lady the urgent idea that she
was, as boys say, "dared" to make Father Stafford talk to her. This was
quite enough. Helped by the unconscious alliance of Haddington, who
thought Miss Bernard had let him alone quite long enough, she seized her
opportunity, and said in the softest voice:

"Father Stafford?"

Stafford turned his head, and found fixed upon him a pair of large, dark
eyes, brimming over with mingled contrition and admiration.

"I am so sorry--but--but I thought you looked so ill."

Stafford was unpleasantly conscious of being human. The triumph of
wickedness is a spectacle from which we may well avert our eyes. Suffice
it to say that a quarter of an hour later Claudia returned Eugene's
glance with a look of triumph and scorn.