r you."

"I think you are," he answered. "That is why I want to be honest and
tell you the truth about myself. For that reason, and because I cannot
bear it any longer. I cannot, I cannot!" he repeated in a low,
despairing tone.

"If it will help you to tell me, then tell me," said Francesca, kindly.
"But I do not ask you to. I do not see why we should not be the best of
friends without my knowing this thing which weighs on your mind."

"You will understand when I have told you," answered Lord Redin. "Then
you can judge whether you will have me for a friend or not. It will seem
very bad to you. Perhaps it is. I never thought so. But you are a Roman
Catholic, and that makes a difference."

"Not in a question of right and wrong."

"It makes the question what it is. You shall hear."

He paused a moment, and the lines and furrows deepened in his face. The
sun was sinking fast, and the long beams had faded away out of the
shadows. There was no one in sight now, but the music of the benediction
service echoed faintly in the distance. Francesca felt her heart beating
with a sort of excitement she could not understand, and though she did
not look at her companion, her ears were strained to catch the first
word he spoke.

"I married a nun," he said simply.

Francesca started.

"A Sister of Charity?" she asked, after a moment's dead silence. "They
do not take vows--"

"No. A nun from the Carmelite Convent of Subiaco."

His words were very distinct. There was no mistaking what he said.
Francesca shrank from him instinctively, and uttered a low exclamation
of repugnance and horror.

"That is not all," continued Lord Redin, with a calm that seemed
supernatural. "She was your kinswoman. She was Maria Braccio, whom every
one believed was burned to death in her cell."

"But her body--they found it! It is impossible!" She thought he must be
mad.

"No. They found another body. I put it into the bed and set fire to the
mattress. It was burned beyond recognition, and they thought it was
Maria. But it was the body of old Stefanone's daughter. I lived in his
house. The girl poisoned herself with some of my chemicals--I was a
young doctor in those days. Maria and I were married on board an English
man-of-war, and we lived in Scotland after that. Gloria was the daughter
of Maria Braccio, the Carmelite nun--your kinswoman."

Francesca pressed her handkerchief to her lips. She felt as though she
were losing her senses. Minute