“Of course.”

“No questions.  Understand?”

When he nodded impatiently she ran to the door and, flinging it open, called down the hall: 

“Father!  Father O’Malley!  Quick!” Then she summoned Dolores.

The priest answered; he hurried from his room and, with a dazed lack of comprehension, acknowledged his swift introduction to Dave.  Alaire was keenly alive and vibrant with purpose now.  Dolores, too, came running, and while the men were exchanging greetings her mistress murmured something in her ear, then hastened her departure with a quick push.  Turning upon the others, Alaire explained: 

“I’ve sent for some of the women, and they’ll be here in a minute.  Father, this man has come for me.  He loves me.  Will you marry us, before Longorio arrives?”

“Alaire!” Dave exclaimed.

She stilled him with a gesture.  “Quick!  Will you?”

Father O’Malley was bewildered.  “I don’t understand,” he expostulated.

“Nor I,” echoed Dave.

“You don’t need to understand.  I know what I’m doing.  I’ve thought of a way to save us all.”

Through Dave’s mind flashed the memory of that thing which had haunted him and made his life a nightmare.  An incoherent refusal was upon his lips, but Alaire’s face besought him; it was shining with a strange, new ecstasy, and he could not bring himself to deny her.  Of what her plan consisted he had only the dimmest idea, but he assured himself that it could by no possibility succeed.  After all, what did it matter? he asked himself.  They were trapped.  This might serve, somehow, to cheat Longorio, and—­Alaire would be his wife.

“Very well,” he stammered, weakly.  “What are you thinking of?”

“I haven’t thought it all out yet, but—­”

At that moment Dolores returned, bringing with her the three black-haired, black-shawled house servants, bundling them through the door and ranging them along the wall.

Father O’Malley’s face was puckered; he said, hesitatingly:  “My dear madam, this isn’t regular; you are not Catholics.  How can I bless you?”

“You can marry us legally, just the same, can’t you?” Alaire was breathing rapidly, and some part of her eagerness began to thrill her hearers.

“Oh yes, but—­”

“Then marry us.  And make haste, please!  Please!”

Law nodded.  He could not speak, for his mouth was dry.  A voice within him shouted a warning, but he would not listen.  His heart was beating violently; his temples were pounding; all the blood of his body seemed centered in his head.

Before the eyes of the four wondering women Father O’Malley married them.  It seemed to Alaire that he would never reach the end, although, in fact, he stumbled through the ceremony swiftly.  Alaire clipped his last words short by crying: 

“Tell these people so that they’ll understand what it all means.  Tell them to remember they have seen a marriage by the Church.”