The Secret of the Marshbanks [antikvár]

CHAPTER I "That's the child—that's Cherry," Sister Seraphine said in her serene voice. Her hands were crossed and hidden withia her wide sleeves, but a motion of her caped and coifed head indicated a certain girl among the milling masses, and the man who was her companion looked at the girl keenly. The tableaux and the play were over, but many of the girls still wore their make-up, and a theatrical excitement possessed the hot crowded hall. It was not a large hall; just now it was filled with spectators, nims and performers mixed indiscriminately. A few parents were there to congratulate daughters, friends gathered excitedly about the girls who had recently walked the boards as Indians, pioneers, Spanish settlers, and who laughed excessively as they stood about in their brown paint and feathers, scoop bonnets and hooped skirts, combs and lace mantillas. Bright lights flooded auditorium and stage; groups formed and re-formed. The man watched the girl he had identified for a few minutes and thought that she was a vital young creature, anyway; she was not a bad-looking young creature, anyway; she seemed popular enough, anyway. Obviously she was the center of everything that went on. As the daughter of an Indian chief she had taken the leading part in the play that had concluded the program, and had appeared in more than one of the tableaux that had preceded it as well. Judson Marshbanks saw her questioned, kissed and congratulated; saw her drop her proudly feathered head more than once in a deprecating fashion, as if she were embarrassed by praise. After some fifteen minutes of this post-performance bedlam, when some of the audience was already drifting away and the atmosphere had been somewhat cooled by the opening of wide doors into the night, a nun drew her quietly aside. The girl's laughing expression changed, as she glanced in his direction. She crossed the floor immediately to join him. "Cherry, this is Judge Marshbanks," said Sister Seraphine, and the Judge watched her dark eyes brighten suddenly, and felt the touch of her warm, young, quickly extended hand. All she said was a somewhat shy how-do-you-do, but her look added what she did not say: "I know your name! I know something about you." 7 \ ' i i ' :l -.; ¦' I','.: n, !;