amends before I die... the time is getting short!”
The Princess opened her eyes. A gentle footfall was heard. The door opened noiselessly and a priest entered. He was tall, finely formed, with a refined face and clear-cut, pale features. His eyes were bright with the power of intellect. His voice, though low and well modulated, had yet in it a tone of command, which rendered obedience absolute. He advanced quickly to the bedside, and making the sign of the cross said, “In nomine Patris―et Filii―et Spiritûs Sancti, Amen.”
“The saints be praised, Monseigneur Ryder, that you have arrived in season. I have a secret to impart to you which presses heavily on my soul.”
“Make me a full confession at once,” replied the priest fastening his compelling eyes on the ones so rapidly glowing dim. “Your hours are numbered.”
The nurse entered the room, and after administering a cordial, quietly withdrew. The Princess began in a weak voice:
“Your reverence, I am called a good woman, yet for years I have aided and abetted a lie. It has been generally understood that my husband’s son died, and that in default of an heir these princely estates, at my decease, would revert to the Church. Such in fact were the conditions of Duke Oswald’s will. Father Ryder, the heir to all this property is living!”
