deck, down the boarding-stairs. The earl's gondola was waiting.

"To the molo in five minutes," cried Lady Nora to the poppe, "and you
shall be rich."

They went into the little cabin. The earl still held the cup in his
hand. They sat far apart--each longing to comfort the other--each afraid
to speak. Between them was a great gulf fixed--the gulf of sin and
shame.

Half-way to the landing, they passed Phelim's gondola, making for the
yacht. The cabin hid them and he passed in silence.

"I sent him for some bon-bons," said Lady Nora. "I did it to make you
jealous."

They reached the molo in less than five minutes and Lady Nora tossed her
purse to the oarsmen, and sprang out.

"Put the cup under your coat," she said. The earl obeyed. He had stolen
it openly. He brought it back hidden. They crossed the Piazza as rapidly
as they dared, and entered the church. The sacristan greeted them with a
smile and led the way to the treasury.

"They haven't missed it yet," whispered Lady Nora.

The sacristan unlocked the outer and the inner door, bowed, and left
them.

Lady Nora seized the cup and ran to its accustomed shelf. She had her
hand outstretched to replace it, when she uttered a cry.

"What is it?" exclaimed the earl.

She did not answer, but she pointed, and the earl, looking where she
pointed, saw, on the shelf--the turquoise cup.

They stared at the cup on the shelf--at the cup in Lady Nora's
hand--and at each other--dumfounded.

They heard a limping step on the pavement and the cardinal came in. His
face was very grave, but his voice was very gentle.

"My children," he said, "I prayed God that you would bring back the cup,
but, _mea culpa_, I lacked faith, and dared not risk the original. Would
God let Nora Blake's granddaughter make shipwreck? The cup you have, my
child, is but silver-gilt and glass, but it may serve, some other day,
to remind you of this day. Look at it when your pride struggles with
your heart. Perhaps the sight of it may strengthen you. Take it, not as
the present of a cardinal, or an archbishop, but as the wedding-gift of
an old man who once was young, and once knew Nora Blake."

"A wedding-gift?" exclaimed Lady Nora. "What man would ever marry such a
wretch as I?"

"Nora!" cried the earl; and he held out his arms.

"My pigeons are waiting for me," said the cardinal; and he went away,
limping.

THE DESERT

Far down in the Desert of Sahara is the little oasis of El Mer