her new charms, her fresh finery, and the pitiable trinkets that had
supplanted her scapulary, and which played under her foolish fingers.
The past had no place in her preoccupied mind; her bright eyes were
full of eager anticipation of a substantial future. The incarnation of a
frivolous world, even as she extended one hand to him in half-coquettish
embarrassment she arranged the folds of her dress with the other. At
the touch of her fingers, he felt himself growing old and cold. Even
the penance of parting, which he had looked forward to, was denied him;
there was no longer sympathy enough for sorrow. He thought of the empty
chorister's robe in the little cell, but not now with regret. He only
trembled to think of the flesh that he had once caused to inhabit it.

"That's all, gentlemen," broke in the practical voice of Cranch.
"Whether there are proofs enough to make Francisca the heiress of her
father's wealth, the lawyers must say. I reckon it's enough for me that
they give me the chance of repairing a wrong by taking her father's
place. After all, it was a mere chance."

"It was the will of God," said Father Pedro, solemnly.

They were the last words he addressed them. For when the fog had begun
to creep inshore, hastening their departure, he only answered their
farewells by a silent pressure of the hand, mute lips, and far-off eyes.

When the sound of their laboring oars grew fainter, he told Antonio to
lead him and Sanchicha again to the buried boat. There he bade her kneel
beside him. "We will do penance here, thou and I, daughter," he said
gravely. When the fog had drawn its curtain gently around the strange
pair, and sea and shore were blotted out, he whispered, "Tell me, it was
even so, was it not, daughter, on the night she came?" When the distant