"Well, be in your room and I will call you at the right time," said Mrs. Prior; "but hurry away, now, for she'll be going down-stairs in a minute."
Paul went to his room. Scarcely had he disappeared when Mrs. Mason came forth; the thick silken folds of her dress rustling sumptuously, and with a carcanet of gems flashing its tinted flame over the snow of her neck and shoulders.
When Rose saw her mother the color died from her face and she shivered as if with cold. Mrs. Mason was too much excited to heed this. Taking the little hand in hers, she led the child down-stairs, sweeping through the hall like a sultana.
Mrs. Prior was struck with admiration at the splendor of her beauty, but depressed by this display of magnificence for a wedding which was to be strictly private. Her own refined taste revolted at the incongruity. Indeed, Mrs. Mason herself seemed to feel something of this, for she blushed even while giving her head a proud lift, and observed, in a low voice:
"He would insist upon it. Nothing is rich enough to satisfy him."
Paul found Jube in his room when he entered it.
"Be ready," he said. "We shall soon know if it is the same man."
"But he may claim us, and say that I am his slave again," said Jube, anxiously.
"He will not see us. There, I hear the minister going down. Be ready. Madame is coming to call us."
Mrs. Prior opened the door, and said: "Come," in a quick, nervous whisper.