The priest bowed with a smile. There was, indeed, great difficulty to make out the whole story, as Chiara told it in patois; but her manner was intensely earnest, and Philip bent all his mind to catch the meaning of her confession. It seemed an obscure and painful story of some young English girl, who had been deserted by her lover at Cortina, when she was about to become a mother, and who gave birth to the poor unfortunate creature whom he had just seen. This man was half an Englishman, the son of an English mother. This, then, was the secret of his strange feeling of being almost akin to him.
"Why did she not try to send him as a child to England?" he asked, feeling a great rush of compassion toward the man who had been thus deprived of his birthright.
There was some hesitation about the reply. Chiara had confessed her theft to the priest, but she had also left the stolen money to the church for masses to be said for her soul. She had derived no benefit from it during her lifetime, having grown to love it with all a miser's infatuation, and she was not willing to sacrifice the good it might do her in the life to which she was hastening. She could not run the risk of having to give up her idolized plunder. The priest, also, was unwilling for the church to lose any portion of its revenues.
"Chiara took charge of the child," he said, "and sent it up here to be nursed by her sister. When her sister died ten years ago she came to live in this place herself, and Martino worked for her. It was fair for Martino to work for her, when she paid for all he had."
"Yes," answered Philip; "but did this woman take no measures to find the father who deserted his child so basely?"
"Not possible," exclaimed the priest; "there were few English tourists passing this way thirty years ago. And Chiara began to love the boy, and could not part with him."
"But why does she tell the story now—now, when it is too late?" asked Philip with a tone of passion in his voice.
"She would not tell now," said the priest, "but she dies, as you behold. She is poor, and there will be nothing for Martino. When she is gone the other people here will stone him, or kill him in some way. For his mother was a heretic, and they believe she is in hell, and Martino is not a good Christian, though he was permitted to be baptized. He is very savage, like a wild beast, and the women are frightened of him. The men will kill him like a wild beast."
"She wants to find a friend and protector for him," responded Philip pitifully. "Well, I will take care of the poor fellow. Did the poor girl leave nothing behind her which might give me some clew as to who she belonged to? Martino may have some relations in England."
"There is this little packet of papers in English," said the priest; "I have not read them yet, for this person did not give them to me only a moment ago. No person has ever read them, for she kept them safe and secret all these years. She wishes the English signore to read them, and say what can be done for Martino."