of the drug.
Alma stole softly along the hall and looked into the dining-room. Nearing was standing at his place, hand on the back of his chair; at his left hand Dale Findlay stood, darkly handsome in his black coat. Teresa was leaving the room, tray in hand.
"Tell Miss Nearing that dinner is waiting."
Teresa started at her master's word and hurried from the room. Alma retreated hurriedly along the hall ahead of her, waiting in her door. Teresa came breathlessly, noiseless as a shadow.
"Manuel hag gone for him!" she whispered.
"Gone for him?" Alma repeated, her heart jumping with a high, glad leap.
"Meester Barrett. Don't be afraid, my poor little dove!"
"How long has he been gone, Teresa?"
"Five-ten minutes."
"Good old Manuel!" Alma blessed him, tears of gratitude, of hope, rising hot to her eyes.
"What must I tell him?" Teresa asked, moving her head toward the dining-room door.
"Tell them," Alma answered, a swelling triumph in her heart, "that Miss Nearing is fasting for her soul."
Teresa returned to Alma's door in a little while, her breath audible from excitement as if she had run around the leaguered house.
"Nobody can be married without a priest!" she said, exulting in her disclosure as if it might be original. "There is no priest here, and there can be no marriage without a priest!"
