"

My husband's and Alma's! It took place at the American Embassy, and was
attended by great numbers of smart people. There was a long account of
the grandeur of the bride's dress and of the splendour of the
bridegroom's presents. They have taken an apartment on the Champs
Elysees and will spend most of the year in Paris.

Ah well, why should I trouble about a matter that so little concerns me?
Alma is still beautiful; she will be surrounded by admirers; her salon
will be frequented by the fashionable parasites of Europe and America.

As for my husband, the straw-fire of his wife's passion for him will
soon burn out, especially now that she has gained what she wanted--his
name, his title.

* * * * *

Martin carried me upstairs to bed to-night. I was really feeling weaker
than usual, but we made a great game of it. Nurse went first, behind a
mountain of pillows; Martin and I came next, with his arms about my body
and mine around his neck; and Dr. O'Sullivan last, carrying two tall
brass candlesticks.

How we laughed! We all laughed together, as if trying to see which of us
could laugh the loudest. Only Christian Ann looked serious, standing at
the bottom of the stairs, nursing baby in her nightdress.

It is three o'clock in the morning as I write, and I can hear our
laughter still--only it sounds like sobbing now.

* * * * *

JULY 22. Have heard something to-day that has taken all the warmth of
life out of me. It is about my father, whom the old doctor still
attends. Having been told of my husband's marriage he has announced his
intention of claiming my child if anything happens to me!

What his object may be I do not know. He cannot be thinking of
establishing a claim to my husband's title--Isabel being a girl.
Remembering something his lawyer said about the marriage settlement when
I consulted him on the subject of divorce, I can only assume that (now
he is poor) he is trying to recover the inheritance he settled on my
husband.

It frightens me--raising my old nightmare of a lawsuit about the
legitimacy of my child. I want to speak to Martin about it. Yet how can
I do so without telling him the truth which I have been struggling so
hard to conceal?

* * * * *

JULY 23. Oh, Mary O'Neill, what are you coming to?

I told Martin about father's threat, only I gave it another colour. He
had heard of the Reverend Mot