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Updated: June 9, 2025
But I said nothing to Monsignore and had every confidence in him until well, until one day a member of the Cathedral clergy, unexpectedly entering the rectory library, saw Miss Atheson sitting on the arm of the priest's chair, with her head close to his and her arm across his shoulders. They were reading from a letter, and did not see the visitor, who withdrew silently.
Uncle Mac said that 'he parted his whiskers in the middle, so he did, and that 'he looked like a governor or somethin' of the sort. I was just wondering if that detective of yours has anything to do with that camp, and if these strange visitors are not in some way connected with his interest in Miss Atheson. But perhaps that's making too much of a mystery of it."
I figure that the guards, and the servants, and Miss Atheson will be the only ones in the house. The fire will bring all but Miss Atheson to the back. A rope ladder skillfully thrown will do the rest. Now you see why I can't mix the Padre up in that. We may be arrested, though I don't think we shall. The Minister doesn't want anything of that kind.
The Minister drew up a chair and sat down, with a low bow, before his desk; but not before he had placed Ruth in a chair where the light would shine full on her face. He seemed now to be a changed man almost a judge; and the fingers thrummed on the glass as they had done during the conference with Wratslav and Ivan. With a half-amused smile, Ruth began. "Excellency, my name is Ruth Atheson.
Miss Atheson will, I am sure, be kind enough, and considerate enough of the memory of Her Highness, not to deny any of these statements." "I am sure, Your Excellency," said the priest, "that Miss Atheson will keep strict silence as to the past. She would not wish to embarrass the situation nor in any way stain the memory of her dead friend. Of that you may rest assured."
So the friends walked along the main street of Sihasset and out toward the Bluff Road. Mark was silent for a long time, wondering how he could approach the subject. When he spoke he went directly to the point: "Father, you know that I love Miss Atheson?" "Yes." "You approve?" "Decidedly." "But I am not of her faith." "You are.
"Nothing," replied Mark, "except that you make up splendidly as a really decent sort of fellow." "Perhaps I am a decent sort, decent enough, anyhow; and perhaps I don't particularly like my business, but it is my business. Now, look here, Griffin, I want you to help instead of hindering me. I have to ask this question of you: What do you know about Ruth Atheson? You see her every day."
The sweet, compelling face of Ruth Atheson rose up before him to plead for herself. Who was she, this girl of mystery? His half-promised wife? A runaway duchess pledged to another man? A priest's God! that was too much. Mark clenched his hands to stifle a groan. Then he thought of Father Murray. Good and holy and pure he had seemed to be, a man among men, a priest above all.
"Miss Ruth Atheson before?" "No." "Ever hear of her?" "No." "Are you really interested in her?" "Yes." "Do you intend to stay interested?" "Yes." "I was mistaken. You don't know, and I guess it's my duty to tell you the truth. This girl is a runaway." "What?" Mark was rising. Saunders put out his hand. "Easy now, Griffin, easy now. Just wait. I am going to tell you something.
His face saddened as he answered. "Edgar Atheson." "Etkar " But the priest raised his hand. "Edgar Atheson if you please." The Minister bowed. "And you are the brother of " "Alice Murray," the priest interrupted quietly, with a touch of dignified hauteur. His Excellency was silent, and his visitor continued.
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