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diff --git a/22998.txt b/22998.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..735c579 --- /dev/null +++ b/22998.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8368 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Janet of the Dunes, by Harriet T. Comstock + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Janet of the Dunes + + +Author: Harriet T. Comstock + + + +Release Date: October 17, 2007 [eBook #22998] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JANET OF THE DUNES*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 22998-h.htm or 22998-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/9/22998/22998-h/22998-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/9/22998/22998-h.zip) + + + + + +JANET OF THE DUNES + +by + +HARRIET T. COMSTOCK + +Author of +Joyce of the North Woods, +A Son of the Hills, Etc. + + + + + + + +[Illustration: JANET. _Frontispiece_] + + + +Grosset & Dunlap +Publishers :: :: New York + +Copyright, 1907, By Little, Brown, and Company. +All rights reserved + + + + +LOVINGLY +I Dedicate this Book +TO +CARRIE LOUISE SMITH. + +HER FRIENDSHIP WAS, AND ALWAYS WILL BE, A LIGHT TO +ME UPON MY WAY. THE CHART SHE SAILED BY +WILL GUIDE MY COURSE AND BRING ME, I +HOPE, AT LAST, TO THE HARBOR +WHERE SHE HAS GONE. + +HARRIET T. COMSTOCK. +FLATBUSH, BROOKLYN, N.Y. +June 15, 1907. + + + + + + +PREFACE + + +In this story of the dunes, the Hills and the Light, I have not +attempted any character drawing, although on the easterly shore of Long +Island there are many people who have retained, together with the plain +old English names which they brought with them by way of Connecticut and +Rhode Island, a simplicity and sturdiness of character not to be found +elsewhere, I believe, so near the great cosmopolis, and which is worthy +a place in song and story. + +It has been my good fortune to mingle for many summers with these kindly +folk, and particularly with a little group of gentle, rather bashful and +silent men forming a crew, with their captain, of one of the United +States Life Saving Stations. + +It is my hope that this story, if it does nothing else, will in some +small measure enhance the not-too-strong interest in which the poorly +paid, obscurely enacted heroism of the men in this service is held by +the general public. + +They have not the advantages, like our soldiers and firemen, of dressy +uniforms and frequent parade before us. They would be greatly +embarrassed by anything like public homage; yet how beneficent is their +service! The lonely isolation of the Government Houses; the long, +ofttimes dangerous patrols every night from sunset to sunrise; their +detachment from home and social ties,--all speak for the dignified +bravery of these men along our coasts, and should call forth from us a +grateful and appreciative tribute. + +HARRIET T. COMSTOCK. +FLATBUSH, BROOKLYN, N.Y. +JUNE 12, 1907. + + + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +Janet Frontispiece + + page +"The two men stood spellbound before the easel" 117 + +"'What do you know of my mother?'" 187 + +"'They're on the outer bar! Two rockets! I've answered!'" 267 + + + + + + +JANET OF THE DUNES + +CHAPTER I + + +A sweeping curve of glistening beach. A full palpitating sea lying under +the languid heat of a late June afternoon. The low, red Life Saving +Station, with two small cottages huddling close to it in friendly +fashion, as if conscious of the utter loneliness of sea and sand dune. +And in front of one of these houses sat Cap'n Billy and his Janet! + +They two seemed alone in the silent expanse of waste and water, but it +in no wise disturbed them. Billy was industriously mending a huge fish +net spread out upon the sands. Janet was planning a mode of attack, in +order to preserve unto herself the very loneliness and isolation that +surrounded them. + +In Janet's hands Cap'n Billy knew himself a craven coward. Only by +keeping his eyes away from the face near him could he hope for success +in argument. And Cap'n Billy, with all the strength of his simple, +honest nature, meant to succeed in the present course--if Janet would +permit him! + +It was yet to be discovered how beautiful was the girl, crouching upon +the sands. So unlike was she to the young people of the Station that she +repelled, rather than attracted, the common eye. Tall, slim, and sinewy +was she, with the quick strength of a boy. The smooth, brown skin had +the fineness and delicacy of exquisite bronze. Some attempt had been +made earlier in the day to confine the splendid hair with strong strands +of seaweed, but the breeze of the later morning had treated the matter +contemptuously, and the shining waves were beautifully disordered. Out +of all keeping with this brown ruggedness were Janet's eyes. Like +colorless pools they lay protected by their dark fringes, until emotion +moved them to tint and expression. Did the sky of Janet's day prove +kind, what eyes could be as soft and blue as hers? Did storm threaten, a +grayness brooded, a grayness quite capable of changing to ominous black. + +Cap'n Billy, trained to watching for storms and danger, knew the +signals, and now, for safety, lay low. + +The eyes were mild and sun-filled, the face bewitchingly friendly; but +when Janet took to wheedling, Billy hugged the shore. + +"You don't really mean it, Cap'n, now, do you?" + +"I do that!" muttered Billy, and he pulled the twine energetically. + +"What, send your own Janet off to the mainland to stay--except when she +runs back?" This last in a tone that might have moved a rock to pity. + +"Yes, that, Janet; and ye mustn't come on too often, nuther." + +"Oh! Cap'n, and just when we've got the blessed beach to ourselves! Mrs. +Jo G. and her kind gone; only the crew and us! Why, Cap'n, this is +life!" + +"Now, Janet, 'tain't no use fur ye t' coax. Ye're goin' on seventeen, +ain't ye?" + +"Seventeen, Cap'n, and eleven months!" + +"It's distractin' the way ye've shot up. Clar distractin'; an' I ain't +been an' done my duty by ye, nuther." Billy yanked a strand of cord +vigorously. + +"Yes, you have, Cap'n," Janet's tone was dangerously soft; "I'm the very +properest girl at the Station. Look at me, Cap'n Daddy!" + +But Billy steeled himself, and rigidly attended to the net. "Well," he +admitted, "ye're proper enough 'long some lines. I've taught ye t' +conquer yer 'tarnal bad temper--" + +"You've taught me to know its power, Cap'n Daddy," warned Janet with a +glint of darkness in the laughing serenity of her gaze; "the temper is +here just the same, and powerful bad, upon provocation!" + +A smile moved the corners of Billy's humorous lips. + +"An' the bedpost is here, too, Janet. Lordy! I can see ye now as I used +t' tie ye up till the storm was over. What a 'tarnal little rascal ye +war! The waves of tantrums rolled over ye, one by one, yer yells growin' +less an' less; an' bime by ye called out 'tween squalls, 'Cap'n Daddy, +it's most past!'" There was a mist over Billy's eyes. "Ye 'tarnal little +specimint!" he added. + +"But, Cap'n, dear!" Janet was growing more and more dangerous; "I've +been so good. Just think how I've gone across the bay, to the Corners, +to school. My! how educated I am! Storm or ice, I leave it to you, +Daddy, did I ever complain?" + +"Never, Janet. I've stood on the dock and watched yer sail comin' 'fore +the gale, till it seemed like I would bust with fear. An' the way ye +handled yer ice boat in the pursuit of knowledge-gettin' was simple +miraculous! No, I ain't a-frettin' over yer larnin'-gettin'; it's the +us'n' of the same as is stirrin' me now. With such edication as ye've +got in spite of storm an' danger, ye ought to be shinin' over on the +mainland 'mong the boarders!" + +"Boarders!" sniffed Janet, tossing her ruddy mane; "boarders! Folks have +gone crazy-mad over the city folks who have swooped down upon us, like +a--a--hawk! Every house full of those raving lunatics going on about the +views, and the--the artistic desolation! That's what those dirty, spotty +looking things on the Hills call it. Cap'n, you just ought to see them +going about in checked kitchen aprons, with daubs all over +them--sunbonnets adangling on their heads, little wagons full of truck +for painting pictures--and such pictures! Lorzy! if I lived in a place +that looked like those--sketches, they call them--I'd--I'd go to sea, +Cap'n Daddy--to sea!" + +"But they be folks, Janet, an' it's a new life an' a chance, an' it +ain't decint fur ye, with all yer good pints, t' be on the beach along +with the crew, all alone!" + +"Cap'n, I do believe you want to marry me off! get rid of me! oh, +Daddy!" Janet plunged her head in her lap and was the picture of +outraged maidenhood. + +"'T ain't so! An' ye know it!" cried Billy. "But Mrs. Jo G., 'fore they +sailed off, opened my eyes." + +"Mrs. Jo G.!" snapped Janet, raising her head and flashing a look of +resentment, "I thought so! What did she suggest--that I might come to +her house and wait--wait, just think of it, Cap'n, wait upon those +boarders?" She had suggested that, and something even worse, so Billy +held his peace. + +"It's simply outrageous the way our people are going on," the girl +continued; "they are bent upon beggaring the city folks! Beggaring them, +really! they have no consciences about the methods they take to--to rob +them!" + +"Janet, hold yer tiller close!" + +"Oh! I know, Cap'n, but I do not want to take part in it all. I want to +stay alone with you. Think of the patrols, Cap'n Daddy! I'll take them +all with you. Sunset, midnight, and morning! You and I, Daddy, dear, +under the stars, or through storm! Ah, I've ached for just this!" + +Billy felt his determination growing weak. + +"I've made 'rangements, Janet; Cap'n David he's goin' to board ye, an' +ye can look about, an' if ye see an openin' t' get a chance t' better +yerself--not in the marryin' way, but turnin' a penny--why it will all +help, my girl, an' ye ought t' be havin' the chance with the city folks, +what all the others is havin'." + +"Oh! you sly old Cap'n Daddy! And do you realize that Cap'n Davy's Susan +Jane isn't any joke to live with? You don't hear Davy tattling, but +other folks are not so particular. Daddy, dear, I just cannot!" And with +this the girl sprang into the net, rolled over and over and then lay +ensnarled in the meshes at Billy's feet, her laughing eyes shining +through the strands. + +"Ye 'tarnal rascal!" cried Billy. + +"You think you've caught me!" whined Janet, "you think you've got me! +Oh! Cap'n, I'm afraid of the city folks!" + +"Fraid!" sneered Billy. "My Janet 'fraid o' anythin'!" + +"Yes, honest true! I do not want to be near them. I scent danger; not to +them, but to me!" + +Billy, bereft of his hands' occupation, looked out seaward. He was +well-nigh distracted. Always his duty to this girl was uppermost in his +simple mind; but his love and anxiety mingled with it. He no more +understood her than he understood the elements that made havoc along +the coast and necessitated his brave calling. He waged war with the sea +to save his kind; and he struggled against the opposing forces in Janet +that he in no wise understood, in order that she, as a girl among +others, should have her rights. + +Wild little creature as she had always been, Billy had used all the +opportunities at hand to tame her into a similarity to the other +children of the Station; and when he had failed, he gloried in the +failure, and grew more distracted. Braving opposition in the girl and +the dangers of Nature, Billy had forced the child across the bay to the +school at the Corners. What there was to learn in that primitive +institution, Janet had learned, and much more besides in ways of which +Billy knew nothing. + +For years the quaint seaside village had lain unnoticed in its droning +course. Ships, now and again, had been driven upon the bar outside the +dunes, and at such times the bravery of the quiet crew at the Government +Station was sung in the distant city papers. + +Now and again the superiority of the Point Quinton Light would be +mentioned. But Captain David never knew of it. He tended and loved the +Light with a fatherly interest. It was his life's trust, and David was +a poet, an inarticulate poet, who spoke only through his shining Light. +The government was his master. David thought upon the government in a +personal way and served it reverently. + +Then an artist had discovered Quinton-by-the-Sea. He took a painting of +it back to the restless town, a painting full of color of dune, sea, +bay, and hundred-toned Hills, with never a tree to stay the progress of +the unending breezes. That was sufficient! The artist was great enough +to touch the heart and Quinton was doomed to be famous! But it was only +the beginning now. Every house in the village had opened its doors to +the strangers; and every pocket yawned for possible dollars. Tents were +pitched in artistic arrangement on the Hills, but the hotel was not yet. +Managers waited to see if the fever would last. While they waited, the +village folk reaped a breathtaking harvest. Mrs. Jo G., the only woman +who had lived at the Life Saving Station in her own home, packed up and +went "off," with baggage and children, to open the old farmhouse on the +mainland and take boarders. Before going she left food for Billy to +digest. + +"This be Janet's chance," she said, standing with her hands on her hips, +and her sunbonnet shading her fair, pinched face--nothing ever tanned +Mrs. Jo G. "She can turn in an' help wait on table, or she kin take in +washin'. It won't hurt her a mite. Washin' will have t' be done, an' the +city folks will pay. Janet can make them fetch and carry their own duds. +She can stand on her dignity; an' wash money is as good as any other." + +Billy experienced a distinct chill at this last proposition. Why, he +could hardly have told. During Janet's babyhood and early childhood he +had assumed all household duties himself. Later he and Janet had shared +them together over tub and table, but that Janet should wash for the +boarders was harrowing! + +"You think she's too good, Cap'n," sneered Mrs. Jo G., "but she ain't. +She's wild, an' she ought t' get her bearin's. She ain't any different +from my girls nor the others, though you act as if you thought so. You +ain't as strong as you once was, Cap'n, an' come the time when you pass +in your last check, who's goin' t' do for Janet? An' how's she goin' t' +know how t' do fur herself? You ain't actin' fair by the girl. It's +clear Providence, the way the city folks has fallen, as you might say, +right in our open mouths. There'll be plenty of chances on the mainland +fur Janet t' turn a penny, an' get an idea of self-support. But she +ought t' be there, and not stuck here!" + +Mrs. Jo G. had hardly turned the Point, after this epoch-making speech, +before Billy was starting for the Light and the one friend of his heart. + +"David," he explained, viewing his friend through a fog of thick, blue +smoke, "I want that ye should take my girl! Once Janet is here, she'll +be mighty spry 'bout gettin' in t' somethin'. I don't want her t' take +t' washin' or servin' strangers, 'less she wants t', but when 'sperience +_an'_ money is floatin' loose, my girl ought t' be out with her net." + +"Course!" nodded David; "an' Janet's a rare fisher fur these new +waters." + +"Ye'll keep yer eye on her, David--knowin' all ye do?" + +The furrows deepened on Billy's brow. David took his pipe from his +mouth. + +"God's my witness! I will that!" he said. + +Thus things stood while Janet, coiled in the meshes, lay laughing up at +Billy. + +"What do you think of your haul, Cap'n Billy Daddy?" The man sighed. +"You wouldn't let those dreadful old sharks--they _are_ sharks, +Cap'n--you wouldn't let them hurt your poor little fish, now would +you?" The rippling, girlish laugh jarred Billy's nerves. He must take a +new tack. + +"See here, Janet, do ye mind this? Ye ain't jes' _my_ child--Lord knows +ye ain't--yer hers!" + +"Hers?" + +"Yes." + +"Ah! you mean my mother." The net lay quite still. Having no memory of +the mother, Janet was not deeply impressed. "I know, Cap'n; when you are +in a difficulty you always bring--'her'--in,--what she would like, and +what she wouldn't. It's my belief, Cap'n, she'd have done and thought +exactly as we told her to." + +"'T ain't so, nuther! She had heaps of common sense, an' as she got near +port, she saw turrible clear, an' she talked considerable 'bout larnin', +an' how it could steer yer craft better than anythin' else; an' she +'lowed if ye was gal or lad, after ye got larnin', she wanted ye should +go out int' the world an' test it. She wasn't over sot 'bout the +Station. She'd visited other places." + +Janet sat up, and idly draped the net about her. + +"I suppose if my mother had lived," she said, "I would have listened to +her--some. But, Cap'n Daddy, I reckon she would have gone off _with_ +me. Like as not we would have taken boarders, but, don't you see, Cap'n, +I would have had her?" + +"True; an' it's that what's held my hand many's the time. Yer not havin' +her has crippled us both. But a summer on the mainland ain't a-goin' t' +swamp us, Janet. With the _Comrade_ tied to David's wharf, an' me here, +what's goin' t' happen to a--a girl like you?" + +Janet looked across the summer sea. + +"What? Sure enough, Cap'n Daddy, just what? And I ought to be earning my +keep." + +"I'm goin' t' set ye up with some gal fixin's what I've saved fur ye. +Yer mother's things! Ye ain't never seen them. S'pose we take a look +now. A summer, with runnin's over t' the Station, will be real +interestin', Janet. An' ye must tell me everythin'. There ain't no +reason why ye shouldn't sail over every little while, but I do hope +ye'll make yerself useful somehow. It will help bime by. An' I'm gettin' +stiff." He arose awkwardly and strode toward the tiny house. Janet +followed, trailing her fish net robe and humming lightly. + +The house was composed of three small rooms with a lean-to, where of +late years Billy had slept. From the middle room, which was the living +room, a ladder, set against the wall, led to the loft overhead. The man +slowly climbed upward, and Janet went after. + +The space above was hardly high enough for an upright position, so man +and girl sat down upon the floor, and it happened that a locked chest +stood between them. + +"Janet, ye ain't never seen these things, have ye?" + +"No, Cap'n Billy." The mocking laugh was gone from the face. + +"Ye ain't got no sense of curiosity 'bout anythin', Janet--not even yer +mother. Most girls would have asked questions." + +This seemed like a rebuke, and Janet kept silent. + +"Ain't ye got no curious feelin' 'bout yer mother?" + +"Cap'n Billy, you haven't ever let me miss anything in all my life. I +s'pose that's why I haven't asked. I never knew her, did I, Cap'n Billy? +You made up for everything." + +This unnerved Billy. + +"That's logic," he nodded, "an' it's good-heartedness, as well; but, +Janet, I'm goin' to tell ye somewhat of yer mother." He took a key from +his pocket, unlocked the chest and raised the lid. + +"Them things is hers!" he said reverently. "Little frocks--" Three he +laid out upon the floor. Cheap, rather gaudy they were, but of cut and +fashion unknown to the beach-bred girl. "And little under-thin's, an' a +hat, an' sacque; shoes--just look at them, Janet! Little feet they +covered, but such willin' little feet, always a-trottin' 'bout till the +very last, so turrible afraid they wouldn't be grateful enough. Lord! +but that was what she said." The pitiful store of woman's clothing lay +near Janet, but she made no motion to touch it. + +"And this is her!" Captain Billy took a photograph from the bottom of +the chest, unwrapped it from its covering of tissue paper, and handed it +to the quiet girl opposite. "This is her, an' as like as life! The same +little hat on, what she set such store by! I ain't had the heart t' show +ye this before." Janet seized the card eagerly. The light from a small +window in the roof fell full upon it. + +"Oh!" she breathed, "she was--why, Cap'n Billy, she was more than +pretty! I think I should have felt her more if I had seen this." + +"Maybe, Janet." + +"Am--am I like her?" + +"Like as not, if ye was whiter an' spindlin'er, there'd be a likeness." +An uneasiness struggled in Billy's inner consciousness as he viewed the +girl. "Ye're more wild-like," he added. + +"I wish I had asked a lot about her," Janet whispered, and there was a +mist in her eyes; "I have been careless just because I've been happy. It +seems as if we had sort of pushed her away, and kept her still." + +"Well, it's her turn t' speak now, girl, an' that's what I've been +steerin' round t'. Ye're hers an'--" + +"And yours, Cap'n Billy, even if you have taught me to say Captain, +instead of Father." + +"It was her word for me, child, an' ye added Daddy of yer own will. 'My +Cap'n,' she use t' say. It sounded awful soothin'; an' her so grateful +'bout nothin'! Sho! An' she wanted ye to be a help long o' me. Them was +her words. An' Lordy! child, I'm willin' t' work an' share with ye--but +savin' is pretty hard when there ain't nothin' much t' save from, an' if +this summer-boardin' business is goin' t' open up a chance fur ye, it +ain't cause I want help, but she'd like ye t' have more things. Don't ye +see? An' I jest know ye'll get yer innin's on the mainland." + +"I have been a selfish girl!" Janet murmured, holding the photograph +closer, "a human crab; just clinging and gripping you. Then running +wild and fighting against you when you wanted me to learn to be useful! +I think, Cap'n Billy, if you had shown me--my mother, and talked more of +her--maybe it would have been different. Maybe not,"--with a soft +sigh,--"I reckon every one has to be ready for seeing. I don't just know +_how_ to--how to get my share from those--those boarders. But I'll find +a way! I mean to be helpful, Cap'n. I can't bring myself to wait on +them. Mrs. Jo G. doesn't seem to mind that, but I do. And I hate to see +them eat--in crowds. But I'll find something to do. Put the clothes in +the carpet-bag, Cap'n Billy Daddy; I may not wear them over there, but +I'd like to have them. May I take the picture?" + +"Yes, only be powerful careful o' it. An' don't show it round. Somehow +she seems to belong to nobody but jest us two." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Captain David began to climb the long flight of iron stairs. It was his +custom to start early, in order that he might stop upon each landing and +take a view of the land and water on his way up. As David got higher and +higher, his spirits rose in proportion. Below were duty and care; aloft +was the Light, that was his pride and glory, and the freedom of solitude +and silence! + +When David began his climb--because it was the manner of the man to face +life with a song upon his lips--he hummed softly: + + "I would not live alway, + No, welcome the tomb." + +He paused on the first landing and took in the satisfying prospect of +his garden, edged around by summer flowers and showing a thrifty +collection of needful vegetables. + +"_And only man is vile!_" panted David, starting upward, and changing +his song. By the time the third landing was reached care and anxiety +were about forgotten and the outlook upon the rippling bay was +inspiring. + + "_And we put three shots in the lobster pots, + Three cheers for the witches three_" + +Davy remembered only snatches of this song, but its hilarious +tunefulness appealed to his state of feeling on the third landing. David +chuckled, gurgled, and puffingly mounted higher. + +"Looks like it might be a good crab season," he muttered, "an' I hope t' +gum! the city folks won't trifle with the isters out o' season. + + 'Brightly gleams our Father's mercy, + From His lighthouse evermore; + But to us--'" + +puff, pant, groan! + +"_'He gives the keepin' of the lights alon' the shore!_'" David had +reached the Light! He always timed himself to the moment. When the sun +dropped behind the Hills, David's Light took possession of the coming +night! + +He stepped inside the huge lamp, rubbed an imaginary spot off the +glistening glass, turned up the wick and touched it with the ready +match. Then he came forth and eyed the westering sun. That monarch, +riding through the longest day of the year, was reluctant to give up his +power; but David was patient. With hand upon the cloth covering he bided +his time. It was a splendid sunset. Beyond the Hills the clouds were +orange-red and seemed to part in order that the round sun should have a +wide course for his royal exit. The shadows were coming up out of the +sea. David felt, rather than saw, the purpling light stealing behind +him, but he had, for the present, to do _only_ with the day. + +"_There was glory over all the land_," quoted the man, "_a flood of +glory._" Then the sun was gone! On the instant the covering was snatched +away, and David's Light shone cheerily in the glory that at first obscured +it. + +"Your turn will come!" comforted the keeper as if to a friend, "they'll +bless ye, come darkness!" + +With that he stepped out upon the narrow balcony surrounding the tower, +to "freshen up." + +From that point the dunes, dividing the ocean and the bay, seemed but +weak barriers. The sea rolled nearer and nearer. + +"Thus far and no farther," whispered David reverently; "the Lord don't +need anythin' bigger than that strip o' sand to make His waters obey +His will. No mountains could be safer than them dunes when once the Lord +has set the limit. That looks like the _Comrade_ off beyond the P'int!" +he went on; "I'll take my beef without cabbage, if that ain't Janet +a-makin' for the Light, an' as late as this, too! Billy's told her 'bout +the change, an' she wouldn't wait, once she was convinced. She might +have stayed with Billy till mornin', the impatient little cuss." + +The sailboat was scudding before the ocean breeze. Its white wing was +the only one upon the bay, and David watched it with a new interest. + +"Comin' over t' make her fortune," he muttered, "comin' over t' help +fleece the boarders! By gum! I wonder, knowin' what Billy knows, an' +havin' the handlin' of a craft like Janet, he didn't hold the sheet rope +pretty snug as he headed her int' this harbor." + +The boat made the landing without a jar. The girl sprang out, secured +the _Comrade_, then shouldered a carpet-bag, boy-fashion, and came up +the winding path toward the lighthouse. David watched her, bending over +the railing, until she passed within; then he straightened himself and +waited. + +The purple gloaming came; the Light took on courage and dignity; the +stars shone timidly as if apologizing for appearing where really their +little glow was not needed. Then softly: + +"Cap'n David, are you on the balcony?" + +"Who be ye comin' on the government property without permission?" +growled David. Janet came out of the narrow doorway and flung her arms +around the keeper's neck. + +"Cap'n Davy, I've come off to be adopted! I had to stop downstairs to +make my room ready and pay Susan Jane two weeks in advance, but I've got +business with you now. Bring out a couple of chairs, Cap'n, this is +going to be a long watch." + +David paused as he went upon the errand. + +"The money is what sticks, Janet. Money atween me an' Billy is a +ticklish matter. Don't lay it up agin Susan Jane, girl, the conniverin' +in money ways an' the Holy Book is all that Susan Jane has, since she +was struck." + +"It's all right, Cap'n David, if it were only _my_ money! And it soon +will be, Davy; it soon will be. I've just waked up to the fact that I +ought to be helping along, instead of hanging on Cap'n Billy. Seventeen, +and only just waking up! I've come over to the gold mine, Davy, and I'm +going to do some digging for myself." + +David sighed and laughed together; it was a rare combination, and one +for which he was noted. Presently he came out with the chairs. The two +put their backs to the Light. David took out his pipe, and Janet, +bracing her feet against the railing and clasping her hands behind her +head, looked up at the stars. Next to Captain Billy, this man beside her +was her truest friend. + +"Goin' t' help wait at some table?" asked David between long, heartsome +puffs. + +"Nope." + +"Maybe, washin'?" + +"Nope." + +"Anythin' in mind, special?" + +"Yep." + +"What?" + +"I'm going up to the Hills and learn to paint pictures!" + +"By gum!" + +"Yes. I can at least see things as they are. All I shall have to do is +to learn to handle the brushes and mix the paint." + +"By gum!" + +"And, Cap'n David, I know what you all think. You think me a useless +kind of girl, willing enough to hang on Cap'n Billy and take all he can +give. And I know that you think him soft and, maybe, silly, because he +hasn't been sterner with me. But you're all wrong! Cap'n Daddy and I +haven't been wasting our time. We've got awfully close to each other +while we've lived alone and had only ourselves. I've been thinking a +long time of how I could help him best. I didn't want to come over +and--and--what shall I say?--well, plunder the city folks. That's what +every one is doing. Sometimes I'm sorry for them, the city folks. It +seems like we ought to treat them more as visitors, than as ships that +have been tossed up." + +"Lord!" spluttered David through his smoke; "they know how t' look after +themselves." + +"Yes, and when I think of that, I'm afraid of them. They'll get +something out of us for all the money they spend. And, Davy, I don't +want them to get it out of me!" + +"Get it out of you!" David struck his pipe on the railing and the sparks +fell into the night like a shower of stars. Janet nodded her head. + +"Yes, get it out of me! All the same if I'm going to help make my +living, this seems the only way, so I'm going in with the rest. But I +want to choose my own path. Davy, did you ever see my mother? Of course +you did! She was pretty, but I'm a lot better looking. Cap'n Billy's +been telling me about her." + +"Tellin' ye about her, all?" David asked faintly. + +"Oh! I reckon not all; he was choking while he talked, and I hated to +ask him particulars. How old was I when she died, Cap'n Davy?" + +"Ye warn't no age at all, child; as yer little skiff hove int' sight, +hers set sail. Ye didn't any more than hail each other in passin'." + +"Oh! tell me more, Davy." + +"'T was an awful night ye chose, Janet. Wind off sea, an' howlin' like +mad. Sleet an' rain minglin', an' porridge ice slammin' ont' shore! +Billy had the midnight patrol, an' fore he started out, he 'ranged that +we should keep one eye out toward his cottage,--I happened t' be on that +night,--an' if we saw a light in the lean-to winder, I was t' rouse Mrs. +Jo G. 'Long 'bout two, I saw the light, an' I made tracks for Mrs. Jo +G.'s. The wind almost knocked us down as we set out for Billy's. I +waited in the lean-to, an' Mrs. Jo G. she went int' the bedroom." + +"Go on, Cap'n Davy. I wish I had known always about Mrs. Jo G. She +didn't mind the storm? Somehow I never thought of her like that." + +"'T was only human, Janet, her an' yer ma was the only females at the +Station. 'Long 'bout four, Billy came a-staggerin' in. He had seen the +light shinin' in the winder. He was coated over with ice, ice hangin' to +his beard an' lashes, but Lord, how his eyes was glitterin'! I couldn't +say a blessed thin'. Gum! there wasn't a thing t' say. I just gripped +him like a looney, an' he gripped me, an' thar we stood a-starin' an' +a-staring'! 'Why don't ye go in?' I asked." + +"And why didn't he?" Janet was struggling with an inclination to cry, +"why didn't he?" David, fearing he had ventured upon dangerous ground, +muttered: + +"He said he couldn't! Them was his own words. Billy was always queer. +Just then Mrs. Jo G. came int' the living room. She had you--we didn't +know it then, fur ye was just a round bundle--in her arms. Mrs. Jo G. +always speaks to the p'int when she does speak," Davy continued, "an' +all she said was, 'This is all that's left, Cap'n Billy--the mother's +gone!'" + +"Oh! my Cap'n!" murmured Janet; "and only to-night I have heard this!" + +"Now don't take on, Janet!" David clumsily stroked the pretty head that +had found a resting place upon the iron railing. "It was because Billy +hated any takin' on that he kept mum. Him an' me an' Mrs. Jo G. we have +always acted as if nothin' unusual had happened. Ye had a stormy voyage, +child, an' Billy wanted that ye should have calm, while he was in +control." + +"Oh! Cap'n Billy, my poor old Daddy! And I've been a wild, uncaring +girl, David. Never taking hold like the others! Just following Daddy +about, and being a burden! And to think it was--it was boarders that +aroused me! Oh! Davy, it makes me sick." + +"Now see here, Janet!" David got up and walked twice around the little +gallery. "I ain't a-sayin' but what ye ought t' be helpin' yerself an' +takin' anxiety off o' Billy: but I do say that it ain't goin' t' ease +Billy any, if ye go gallivantin' off to the Hills with any fool notion +that good looks is goin' t' help ye." + +"They always help, Cap'n David, always!" Janet's assertion came through +a muffled sob. "You mustn't think I care for my looks myself. I'd just +as soon be as peaked and blue-white as Mrs. Jo G.'s Maud, but I know +pretty looks are just so much to the good--" + +"Or bad!" broke in David. + +"Well, have it that way. But it is according to how you use them. I'm +going to use my good looks wisely!" + +"By gum!" muttered David. This was his escape valve. When other words +failed, "by gum" eased the tension. "Ye ain't much on looks, Janet, when +ye come to that," he said presently. "Ye ain't tidy, nor tasty; ye ain't +a likely promise fur what a handy woman ought t' be. Yer powerful breezy +an' uncertain, an' yer unlike what folks is use t'." + +"Davy!" Janet came in front of him and the light fell full upon her. +"Davy, you just listen and see how wise I am! Do you know why the city +folks have come to Quinton? We never, at least not many of us, saw +anything very splendid about the Hills, the dunes and the bay, now did +we?" + +"The fact is, we didn't!" + +"Well, these people are wild about them because they are unlike the +common things they are used to. I am like Quinton, Davy; I know it way +down in my heart. You won't catch me fixing up like city folks and +looking queer enough to turn you dizzy. Quinton and I are going to be +true to ourselves, Davy, and you'll soon see if my looks do not help!" + +"By gum!" sighed David; and remembering his vow to Billy to watch over +this girl, he sighed again and ordered her below in no very gentle +voice. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Janet was aroused the next morning by hearing Captain David creaking +across the floor of the living room with his daily burden in his arms. +The girl was neither deep asleep nor wide awake. She was never uncertain +of her whereabouts or identity, once she had crossed the border land. + +The early sun was creeping into the east window of her tiny room on one +side of the living room of the lighthouse; on the opposite side was +Captain David's sleeping apartment, into which he carried his helpless +wife every evening before he had to go up aloft, and out of which he +bore her to the chintz covered rocker, every morning after he had come +below. + +For ten long years David had known this sorrow; and he knew that it was +to be his until Death spake the final word. + +"It seems to me, David," the querulous voice was saying, "that the sun, +up your way, rose mighty late to-day." + +"There, there, Susan Jane, 't is the same old sun as rises an' sets fur +all. Had a bad night, Susan Jane?" + +"Bad night! that shows what sympathy you have for me, David. All my +nights are bad. Bad as bad can be, unless they be worse!" + +"Well, Susan Jane, let's hope that a bad night argers a good day. There! +are ye fixed, reasonably comfortable? P'r'aps the pillers ought' be a +mite higher. How's that? An' now, if you want t' read a bit I'll fix the +brekfus. I sot some biscuits overnight." + +"Give me the Bible, David, an' my money box! There, open t' the same old +chapter. Thank the Lord, that chapter is all on one page! Since He +thought wise to take the usefulness from my members, I'm glad He made +folks print my favorite chapter so there's no need of turnin' over. Land +knows, who'd ever think of waitin' on me!" + +"Come now, Susan Jane, I'm always willin', when I ain't on government +duty." + +"Government duty or sleep! Men is all alike. How would you feel if you +was stricken like me?" + +"Powerful bad, Susan Jane, powerful bad. Ye bear yer lot uncommon +patient, Susan Jane; I'm never overlookin' that. But if ye put yer mind +to it, wife, ye'll see that if I do my duty, I must sleep--some. +Howsomever, Mark Tapkins will have his turn to-night, same as usual; an' +I can set with ye this evenin'. The government is powerful generous, +Susan Jane, t' give this every other night shift." + +"Generous, umph! There, David, do get the meal. I guess if you had laid +awake all night, you'd have considerable cravin' in yer stomach fur +victuals. I've a real sinkin'." + +"Sho! I must get a double wriggle on, Susan Jane." David stumbled over a +stool on his way to the stove; he was dizzy from sleepiness, and he, +too, had a sensation of sinking. + +"Sho! I be gettin' monstrous awkward!" he muttered apologetically; "I +hope I ain't waked Janet!" + +"S'pose you had!" snapped his wife; "you think that more important than +my nerves? I don't more'n half like Janet comin' here. If it hadn't been +fur me, I know you'd taken her fur nothin'! No matter if I do have t' go +t' the poorhouse on account of yer shiftlessness. I, stricken an' +helpless! She can come here fur nothin'! I jest know, David, that it +would be a real release fur a great, strong man like you to be rid of a +poor stricken wife; but I guess you'll have to bide the Lord's will +whether you want t' or no!" + +At this point David spilled a kettle of water he was bearing from the +pump, outside the door, to the range. + +"By gum! Susan Jane," he said cheerily, "I guess no one but you could +put up with a blunderin' old feller like me. Ye better reconsider an' +stay t' see the game out. Two eggs, this mornin', wife, or one?" + +"Two, David! You didn't think t' scrimp _me_, did you? If one egg has +got t' be given, you'd better begin on yourself, or Janet!" + +"Come, come, Susan Jane; there is two apiece, an' six fur company!" + +"Company! David, have you had the heartlessness t' invite company here +without askin' me?" + +"Lord! Susan Jane, can't ye take a joke? I only meant eggs is plenty. +The draught's good this mornin'; that's a sign of clear weather. The +biscuits is riz fit t' kill, Susan, I never had better luck. That comes +of havin' a handy wife t' train ye." + +"I'm glad you can see some good in me, David!" Susan Jane was sniffling. +"I think Janet is downright lazy an' triflin'. Lyin' in bed when a +struck woman like me can have ambition enough to be up an' doin'." + +"You're one in a hundred, Susan Jane, but then it ain't more'n fair t' +state that Janet's a boarder, 'cordin' t' yer own placin'." + +"Oh! that's right. Blame me fur miserliness, an' excuse her fur +slackness! She's perfict: I'm the sinner!" + +"Now, Susan Jane!" + +"Oh! I can see through a person if he ain't _too_ dazzlin'!" Susan Jane +drank from the cup of coffee that David held to her lips. "I s'pose +you'd like t' take a tray int' her, David?" + +"Now, Susan Jane, don't be so amusin'! It's wonderful how ye keep yer +spirits." + +"Spirits! David, I s'pose you're speakin' sarcastic. You think my mind +ain't right. You're treatin' me like a child!" The woman turned from the +cup, weeping audibly. + +Janet at this point noiselessly arose and made a hurried toilet. +Sickness, physical weakness of any kind, was repulsive to the girl of +perfect health and outdoor nature; but one thing she realized. While she +stayed at the lighthouse she must share David's burden. Her sense of +loyalty to David made this imperative. She must help him how and when +she could; and she must be as silent as he in regard to it. + +"Good morning!" she cried presently, going into the living room. "Here, +Cap'n David, take your place at the table. I'll do the rest. You won't +mind, Susan Jane, will you, if I boss a little? I'm so used to bossing +my Cap'n Billy." + +"'T ain't decent fur a great girl like you, Janet, t' call Billy in that +fashion. Father seems good enough for the other girls around here." + +"I like my way better;" Janet smiled over the plate of biscuits she was +bearing from the range. "I'm saucy and bossy, Susan Jane, but I've good +points, too. Here, I'll spread your biscuits and fix your eggs. David, +you finish your breakfast and go to bed. I'll feed Susan, and tidy up." + +David cast a grateful look at her and Susan Jane turned to her breakfast +with an appetite that was one of the few pleasures left to her stricken +existence. + +All that morning, to the accompaniment of Susan Jane's complaints, +praise of herself, and disapproval of Janet's appearance and manners, +the girl did the housework, prepared the midday meal, and thought her +busy thoughts. At twelve o'clock, David issued forth from the bedroom. +He was heavy-eyed from sleep and dishevelled as to looks. + +"By gum!" he exclaimed, going out to Janet on the porch; "I s'pose ye +wanted t' go up t' the Hills this mornin', an' peddle yer good looks. I +clean forgot yer ambitions, I was that sodden with weariness." + +"No, Davy, it's all right. I want to get my breath first. I'm going to +Bluff Head this afternoon. I may not have many more chances. I hear +Bluff Head is going to be opened, too." + +"Yes: Mr. Devant sent word down to Eliza Jane Smith t' have the place +ready, bidin' the time he might come. But seems like I heard that Eliza +Jane ain't goin' t'-day. She's takin' washin' in fur the boarders an' +makin' money out of it. Eliza Jane'll get top lofty if she finds she +ain't naturally dependent on James B. It don't do fur some women t' know +their wuth." + +Janet laughed. + +"It helps others!" she answered lightly. + +When the dinner dishes were disposed of, Janet took her sunbonnet and +started off for Bluff Head. The day was hot and the road dusty. The +sunbonnet, as a feminine requisite of old Quinton, was desirable; but +Janet swung hers from her arm, thereby satisfying Mrs. Grundy's demands +and not interfering with her own rights. At one o'clock, in the Quinton +of that day, the city boarders were eating _en masse_, and the +Quintonites, in various capacities, were serving them; so the girl on +the highway had the place to herself. The lighthouse rose red and +gleaming from Cap'n David's garden spot; the bay, blue and rippling, +spread in and out of its tiny sub-bays where the land stretched like +five fingers of a hand, with the blue water in between. To the west lay +the Hills in their "artistic desolation," and to the north of them The +Bluff, with Mr. Devant's long-closed house gracing the summit. It +mattered little to Janet whether Eliza Jane Smith was in command of +Bluff Head or not. The past would never have been as sweet as Janet knew +it, had she depended upon Eliza Jane's movements to govern her ingress +and egress to the place. + +Going rapidly along, the girl presently came to the grounds of the big +house. Years ago attempts at landscape gardening had been indulged in, +while the master of the place fancied to pass his summers there, but +years of recent neglect had all but obliterated the marks of culture. +Wildness was over all, but it was the wildness of former refinement. + +Past the sundial ran the girl, and around to the rear of the house. Then +she burrowed under a dense rosebush and pushed her way through a +basement window, almost hidden by the undergrowth, the sash of which +swung inward at the familiar pressure. + +It was but a moment's work to scramble through, and then run up the +dark, disused stairway. The place had a mouldy smell, but it was neat +and orderly, and the weekly airings, given by Eliza Jane, saved it from +dampness. The silence and absence of human nearness might well have +daunted one; but Janet, the only living thing, apparently, in the +deserted house, felt no qualms. She went directly to the library: there +was little else of interest in the place to her. For years this spot had +been her secret treasure nook. When, as a little child, she had entered +the place with Eliza Jane, it was not as other children, but with an +inborn yearning to see and touch those wonderful rows of books. She was +permitted to dust those she could reach, and her touch was reverent and +gentle. The pictures had at first fascinated her; later, the district +school teaching had given her power to understand the words; then had +dawned the new heaven and the new earth. Like a miser with his gold, she +guarded her joy. She discovered the unfastened window and timed her +visits when she was sure of privacy; and so she had trod, undirected and +like the wild creature she was, the paths of literature. + +The Devant library, gathered through generations, was stored in the +country house that had originally been built as a family home. But the +sons of the race were rovers and often years would slip by without a +personal inspection. James B. and Eliza Jane were the guardians, and +there was little need of a master's anxiety while those two were in +command. + +Janet glanced about the library and her face grew radiant. She inhaled +long breaths. The odor of the leather and old paper thrilled her. She +mounted the little steps and took a book, with unerring touch, from the +fifth shelf, then she sprang lightly to the floor and went with her +prize to the shelter of a deep bay-window. Softly she raised the sash +and drew in the sweetness of the June day. + +"It's good!" she murmured; "heavenly good!" Then she nestled among the +cushions on the window seat, and, shielded by the heavy curtains from +the emptiness of the room, she entered her paradise. + +The key that opened the gateway was a rare edition of Shakespeare; the +play, "Romeo and Juliet." A tiny scrap of paper marked the place of the +last reading. The girl's eyes, blue now as the summer sky, fell upon the +words of delight, and instantly Quinton was forgotten, Quinton, and all +its familiar worries and small pleasures. Janet of the Dunes was Juliet +of Italy. + +A crunching of gravel upon the driveway startled the girl cruelly. "I +believe I have a key, Saxton," said a deep, firm voice; "yes: here it +is, I can let myself in. Drive back to the station and wait for the +baggage train. See that everything is carefully loaded on the wagon from +the livery. You can get me a bite when you return. Stop at the Corners +and bring back enough food for to-night; to-morrow we'll set up +housekeeping. I'll make myself comfortable. And oh! Saxton!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Stop at the post office and ask for mail." + +Janet's blood rose hotly. + +"Caught!" she whispered; then she smiled feebly. She could not see the +speaker; he was at the front of the house. She heard the wheels outside +turn and go rapidly away. A grating of the lock of the long unopened +front door sounded next: then a rapid stride brought the stranger to the +library! + +"Rather a quiet welcome home!" The man, believing himself alone, spoke +aloud and laughed unconcernedly. + +"There's always a feeling of companionship in books. Everything looks in +good condition." He gave a comprehensive glance around the room. + +This was no stranger, but the master of Bluff Head! + +When Janet was six she had last seen this man, and he had changed less +since then than had she. From her shelter she eyed him as he flung +travelling coat, hat, and dress-suit case upon a divan and himself in a +deep leather chair. He was tall, handsome, and elegant. The iron gray +head pressing the chair-back was one to draw the second glance from a +stranger as a matter of course. The clear, blue-gray eyes took in the +walls lined with books. The white hands, clasped in front of the broad +chest, showed nerve force and strength. + +Janet, trapped and desperate, first contemplated a leap from the open +window, but that method of exit was discarded upon second thought. It +would definitely end all further expectation of reaching the world of +books! While there was hope in other directions, she must choose more +sanely. She ventured a cough. So slight a sound in that silence might +well have shaken the strongest nerves. The man in the chair, however, +did not move, but his eyes fell instantly upon the alcove. The parted +curtains, now that the girl raised herself forward, gave a full view of +the slight form and vivid face. The calm eyes from the chair wavered an +instant and the nostrils twitched; then the man laughed carelessly. + +"Won't you come out and be friendly?" he said. + +"Thank you." Janet came forth, book in hand, with eyes full of +amusement. There was an awkward pause while the man gazed steadily at +her. Then Janet spoke. + +"I, I suppose you've come now, to stay?" It sounded brusque and +unmannerly, but it was the only remark that occurred to her. + +"I had thought of making rather a stay,"--the eyes rested upon the +bright face,--"however, possession is nine-tenths of the law. If you say +the word I'll skedaddle!" + +"Oh!" panted Janet, "I pray you pardon me!" The sentence sounded +Shakespearean in the gathering confusion. "I only thought--do you not +see? I suppose you are Mr. Devant and I knew you would end--end--" + +"What, pray? I'm not uncompromisingly final. I've been known to let +things run on." + +"Why, you see, I've been in the habit for years of crawling in your +cellar window, coming up here and--reading your books! I began it when +I was a very little girl; it's come to be a kind of habit." + +The man laughed with keen relish. + +"You quite flatter me, Miss--Miss--?" he paused. + +"Oh! Janet. Janet of the Dunes, you know, Cap'n Billy's Janet. You may +not remember me, but I saw you once, years and years ago. I was at the +Light, David's Light; you came visiting there. I called you Mr. +Government!" + +"Miss Janet, do take a seat! Permit me!" He arose and with courtly grace +placed a chair for his companion. "I recall you perfectly. The mistake +you made in my name came to be a joke and byword after I went home. You +saw me snooping around the Light and thought I was the Government, +inspecting Captain David's domain. It all comes to me quite clearly. I +remember, you put your back against a certain closet and intimated in no +doubtful language that it was private property. You were a bewitching +small child, Miss Janet, if you will pardon an old man's freedom of +speech. I am delighted to renew our acquaintance." Janet flushed. "I +presume, counting upon your memory of my inspection of the lighthouse, +you felt free to inspect my house. Are the books to your taste, Miss +Janet?" + +"They have been my greatest joy in all these years." A serious tone and +a sudden moisture of the blue eyes touched the man. He spoke in a +sincerer manner, looking more sharply at the glowing face. + +"You are a book-lover by nature, I see." + +"Yes, I never see a book but I feel as I do when I stand by the sea on a +foggy morning. I can see nothing, but I know that everything lies hidden +in the fog. I wonder what kind of a day lies there, and what the day +bears. So it is with a book, I open the covers,--and the fog slowly +melts away!" + +"Yes." A smell of the sea stole into the open window and the man took a +long breath. "You have read wisely, I hope?" he said. + +"I began with the pictures. Then I spelled out the words in the books on +the bottom shelf; I've worked my way up. I'm on the fifth shelf by the +door now. I do not seem to be able to get any further than this--" She +passed the book to him. "I've been at this book three whole months! I +sort of hoped--please forgive me, but I sort of hoped--I might get to +the sixth shelf before you came back!" + +"Shakespeare!" mused the master of Bluff Head, "and he's held you three +months, Miss Janet, after you've waded through heaven only knows what?" + +"Yes: he makes me forget everything. I cannot explain, only he sings to +me, and he talks to me, and he makes me a hundred people all in one." + +"Miss Janet, heaven forbid! that a mere master of Bluff Head should +close the gates to this Genius' Eden to such a lover as you! Allow me." +He handed out the key that had given him entrance to his home. "Permit +me to give you royal freedom to what, surely, is more yours than mine. A +cellar window has been honored enough; the doorway is not wide enough +for so true a worshipper." + +"I do not understand you! I fear you are laughing at me." + +"Heaven save us! No, my child, I mean simply this. Come at your own +sweet will and read to your heart's content. If you will graciously +permit me, I most gladly will wander with you through these--" He waved +his hand toward the shelves. "I may be able to point out some new +pleasure-paths; I am certain you can make me love old ones better. If I +am absent from Bluff Head, I will leave orders that you are to be +undisturbed while you honor this room! I trust my old friend of the +Light is well?" + +"Yes. But, oh! how can I thank you?" + +"By returning, my dear child! There I hear Saxton, how the time has +flown!" He arose and Janet slipped to her feet, and passed from the +room. Devant called after her. + +"Good bye, for the present, Janet of the Dunes!" For a moment the girl +paused. + +"Good bye, Mr. Government!" she replied, and was gone, leaving a +trailing ripple of laughter as a memory of the strange meeting. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +"Janet, where you goin'?" + +"Over to the Hills, Susan Jane." + +"Everythin' rid up?" + +"Everything." + +"I never felt my powerlessness so much as I have since you come." + +"I'm sorry, Susan Jane. It must be hard to see others active, if one is +tied as you are. Try not to look at me." + +"Not look at you? Huh! Gals need watchin'. I know it would suit more'n +you, like as not, if I'd been struck blind as well as helpless. But I +ain't blind. I see all that's goin', an' more, too!" Janet sighed. The +atmosphere of the Light, below stairs, was depressing. + +"What's Mark Tapkins hangin' round fur?" + +"It was his turn at the Light last night, Susan Jane." + +"Land sake! I know that. Didn't I hear David snorin' fit t' bust, till +mornin'? But Mark didn't use t' lap his turn clear on t' the next +forenoon. Janet, do you know what I think?" + +"No, Susan Jane." + +"I think Mark Tapkins is shinin' up t' you!" + +"Do you, Susan Jane?" Janet was struggling with her hair. + +"Yes, I do. An' I feel it's my place t' tell you that it ain't a bad +chance fur you. Mark's a steady, slow fellow, but he ain't lackin'. +You're dreadful giddy an' don't take t' house ways. Mark's father is the +best housekeeper I know on. He's sort of daft; but all the sense he has +left is gone t' cookin' an' managin' a house. He ain't old an' the +soft-headed kind last longer than keener folks: it would fit int' your +ways right proper. Mrs. Jo G.'s girl couldn't stand it. She is so brisk +an' contrivin', an' Mrs. Jo G., being right here on hand, has hopes of +workin' Maud Grace off on some boarder; but you ain't got nobody t' +pilot you, Janet, an' you're queer an' unlikely, 'cept in looks, an' +some doubts the worth of them! As long as Mark is leanin' toward you, I +think it my duty to head you toward him." + +"Thank you, Susan Jane, but I'll pilot myself, please." The girl's face +showed an angry flush. "Shall I open the Bible for you before I go?" + +"Yes; you know the place?" + +"It falls open to the page, Susan Jane." + +"Thank you. An' please put the money box where I can see it. Was it one +or two weeks you paid fur?" + +"Two, Susan Jane. Now I must be off. Tell David not to wait dinner." + +"Wait dinner!" sniffed Susan Jane; "well, listen t' them airs! Wait +dinner! I'd like t' see any one, boarder or saucy jade, as would make me +wait dinner!" Janet had fled before the rising storm. + +"There she goes, sails set an' full rigged, an' Mark Tapkins followin' +on ahind like a little, lopsided tug after an ocean steamer!" + +Poor helpless Susan Jane looked after the two, all her irritable, +action-checked misery breaking through her eyes. + +"Lord!" she moaned, "I don't want t' live; an' yet fur all I know, this +may be better'n nothin'! I don't want t' be nothin'! Jest lookin' on is +better than that!" + +Janet, striding along the wood-path beyond the Light, heard the +shambling steps behind her. She turned and saw Mark. He was tall and +lank. He leaned forward from the shoulders loosely, and his face had the +patient, dull expression of a faithful, but none too fine breed, dog. + +"Where are you going, Mark?" The girl turned. + +"'Long o' you, Janet. I've--I've got t' say somethin'!" + +"Oh! please don't, Mark. I've been hearing things since sun-up, and +you've been in the Light all night. You are in no condition to say +things." + +"Yes: I be, too, Janet. I always feel keener after a night awake. Since +I've sot up in the Light I've been considerable spryer, or maybe it's +you!" + +Janet heaved a sigh. "Mark," she pleaded, "there isn't an earthly thing +you can say that I want to hear this morning. I'm going to the Hills on +business, and I must be as calm as I can!" + +"It's them Hills, as has made me come t' the p'int. Them Hills is +bristlin' with city folks, men an' women! I've heard what you're aimin' +at. Goin' up t' the Hills t' get a job of some sort! Yer innercint, an' +yer a gal, Janet, an' I'm a man an' I've spent six months in the city +an' I know its ways, an' I know men! Yer too good lookin', Janet, t' mix +up with what's on the Hills." + +The mixture of foolishness and wisdom, the effort to protect in +man-fashion what was weak, moved Janet strangely. + +"Mark," she faltered, "you need not be afraid. I know I do not +understand, and that helps. If I thought I did, there might be danger. +It's just the same as if I were James B. going up there to +peddle--well--clams! You need not fear a bit more for me than for +him." + +Mark gazed stupidly at the glowing face. + +"I guess I must love you!" he said at last. "Things come kinder slow t' +me. I was allus one t' drift 'long with the tide; but when I plump int' +a rock I get some jarred, same as others. I went t' the city that time +t' see if I could get my bearin's at a distance; but when I come back I +sorter lost the channel an' took agin t' driftin'. But this here Hills +business has livened me up considerable. Did you ever think what I left +Pa fur an' went t' the city, Janet?" + +"I thought you wanted to see the world, Mark." + +"Well, I didn't. Quinton is world 'nough fur me. I went t' see if I +could git, off there alone, a proper sense of jest what I did want. I +wanted t' choose a course fur myself, independent of Pa, but save us! I +hankered arter Pa so, an' I came nigh t' perishin' fur his cookin'. I +come nigher, though, t' perishin' frum tryin' t' get somethin' like it +once, while I was away!" A gleam of thin humor crossed the dull face. + +"What was that?" Janet asked, thankful for any side path that led away +from the danger point. + +"Crullers!" Mark laughed a rattling, unmirthful laugh. "Crullers. I got +thinkin' of Pa's one day; an' I went to a pasty shop an' I says, 'Have +you got crullers?' The gal behind the counter says, 'Yes: how many?' I, +recallin' Pa's, an' feelin' weak in the pit of my stomach frum hunger, I +answered back, 'Three dozen!' The gal leaped back a step; then she +hauled out a bag 'bout the size of a bushel an' begins shovellin' in +round, humpy things, most all hole in the centre but considerable +sizable as t' girth. I was up t' city ways by then, an' I warn't goin' +t' show any surprise if she'd loaded an ister boat full of cakes on me. +So I paid up 'thout a word an' went out of the shop shoulderin' the bag. +It took me 'bout a week t' get rid of them crullers," groaned Mark; "an' +I've told Pa since I come back, that he better learn to make city +crullers fur the city trade this summer. Countin' holes an' puffy air, +they pay better than Pa's solid little cakes." + +Janet was laughing merrily. + +"Why, Mark!" she said presently, "you've got an idea. Tell your father +to make his crullers for the city trade. He'll make his fortune. Put a +sign on your gate and teach the boarders what crullers really are!" + +Mark was not heeding. + +"I vum!" he went on presently, "while I was down t' the city, what with +poor food an' not 'nough of it, an' homesickness fit t' kill, I thought +I seed my course clear. I had a job openin' isters; an' I worked, I kin +tell you! 'Bout all the city folks eat isters an' I seed a good bit of +life down at my shop, an' I learned city ways an' badness! Then I got +sick an' come home, thinkin' I was ready t' settle down, an' then I got +t' driftin' an' so it went till now. An' when I heerd 'bout you goin' up +t' the Hills an' knowin' what I do 'bout city ways, I just reasoned out +that I must love you, else I wouldn't mind so much. I ain't no great +shucks, but I can watch you, an' no one sha'n't harm you; an' Pa's +more'n willin' t' see t' the house, an' cook, no matter who comes in as +my wife; an' you kin run wild, an' no one will have the right t' hinder, +an' I'll stand off an' watch, an' that's somethin'!" + +"Oh, Mark, please, please don't!" The poor fellow's dumb effort to +protect her was an added heartache to carry to the Hills. "You must not, +Mark, dear. You don't want a woman to watch; you want one to watch with +you, one whom you love and who loves you. Put that sign out for +crullers, Mark, I know you can make money, and some day a good, helpful +girl will come your way." + +"No, Janet,"--Mark's patient voice sank drearily,--"if you won't let me +watch over you, I'll watch without yer leave. I won't bother you none, +but I thank God I've got city ways t' meet city ways! I'm plum 'shamed +of the way our gals is actin' with the boarders. I'm a good watcher, +Janet!" + +They had come to the dividing of the ways. + +"Can't I go on, Janet?" + +"No, Mark, you must go home and sleep!" + +"Good bye, Janet, till t'-morrer!" + +"Good bye, Mark!" She watched the slouching figure out of sight. + +"With all my watchers," she faltered, "I feel like a ship riding near +the bar, with the crew's eyes upon it!" And then she went, less +courageously, on the upward way. + +The path ran up hill and down dale, with always a steady rise. The water +of the bay lay blue and smiling roundabout the Hills: the scrub oak, the +blueberries, the luxuriant wild rose, and variegated grasses made color +so exquisite and rare, that the only wonder was that the Hills were not +crowded with adoring Nature-worshippers. The never-ceasing breeze came +caressingly over the flower-strewn stretches. Nothing stayed its course, +and there was health-giving tonic in its breath. + +Beyond, where Brown Brother raised its superior height, the artist +colony had pitched its tents. Toward that settlement, with her daring +request, Janet walked. As she neared it, her brave heart grew weak and +weaker. How was she to word her proposition? What was she to offer in +return for instruction that was to help her to fame and fortune? She +feared every moment that she might meet a little wagon drawn by a +sunbonneted, long-aproned woman, or a man not less picturesque. She sat +down to consider; then, to make thought easier, she lay at full length, +closing her eyes and dreaming luxuriously. The summer day lured her +senses deliciously. Even the late experience with Mark was mellowed by +the present delight. The memory of the recent encounter with the master +of Bluff Head stirred her pulses to a quicker time. Ah, life was +glorious! Life was full, in spite of all. It was like the sea in a fog +or an unopened book. She had only to wait and smile and love, and life +would expand into a perfect day. + +Something drew the girl to a sitting posture; a nameless fear was upon +her. She glanced around, and near her, upon a knoll, sat a man, a young +man! No little wagon put its seal upon his calling, but the broad hat, +set well back from the handsome face, had a distant but fatal mark of +the artist colony upon it. The stranger had a board firmly placed upon +his knees, and even as he gazed at Janet with a devouring intensity he +was working rapidly with a long, slim brush. + +"What are you doing?" The question was torn from the girl without reason +or forethought. + +"Painting a picture!" The voice was solemn, almost to absurdity. + +"A picture of what?" Outraged imagination arose to the fore. + +"The Spirit of the Dunes. Keep still a minute; then I'll let you see it +if you want to." + +"Yes: I do want to." Dignity of a new order was born within Janet at +that instant. + +This probably was a lesser being than the wagon-loaded geniuses. Their +work was not unknown to the girl nor had it escaped her scorn. If this +meaner devotee of art had mangled her into a hideous likeness of +herself, she would resent it, and with reason. Slowly she arose and +went up behind the man. What she saw stayed anger and all other emotions +save wonder. Surely the Hills, with all their real color and outline, +were ensnared upon that square of paper! Never was there a truer +reflection of the bay. Janet could almost feel the breeze that swayed +the scrub oaks and wild roses in the picture. But that marvel was the +least. Who, what was that in the soft dimple of the little hill? A being +of grace, of beauty, and of a wildness that was part of the Hills and +wind! + +In the final estimate of any picture two artists must bear part, the one +who has wrought and the one who appreciates! These two looked now upon +the exquisite sketch. + +"How do you like it?" The man did not turn or raise his eyes, but his +voice brought the quick color to the smooth, brown cheeks. + +"Do--do--_I_ look like that?" + +"As near as mere man can reproduce you. If I had a magic brush and +heaven's own paint pots, I believe I could have done better. I wish you +had stayed a half hour longer, but thank God, I've at least caught a +hint of you!" + +"I--look--like--that!" Amazement thrilled through and through the low +voice. + +"You--look--like--that! And I am grateful for the best criticism I +could ask. What's the matter? What in thunder is the matter?" + +For Janet had sunk down beside him, hid her head in her folded arms, and +was sobbing as if her heart would break. + +"What--in--I say! Miss--Miss--What shall I call you? For heaven's sake, +tell me what I've done?" + +"Oh! you've dashed every bit of hope I had to--to earn money--and--and +fame--for Cap'n Daddy and me!" + +The young artist laid his sketch tenderly aside to dry. It was too +precious to endanger, even in this disturbed moment. Once it was safe, +he stood his full height of six feet two, put his hands in his jacket +pockets, looked down upon the heaving body of the Spirit of the Dunes, +and said firmly: + +"You've got to explain yourself, you know. I don't want to use force, +but really you must look me in the face and try to make me understand." + +Janet lowered her hands at once and gazed upward with her eyes full of +distress and apology. + +"I do not know what you will think of me! I'm ashamed, indeed I am. But, +well, you cannot understand. I never minded so much when I saw the +things--the others did! Their pictures didn't look like anything +real--anything like our dunes and the Hills, and I thought I could +learn, at least, to do such pictures as theirs, and get money! But +you've shown me--another kind! I can never, never learn to make such +pictures as that!" Her sorrowful gaze fell upon the sketch, drying near +by. "And, you--you seem to be taking something away from us. Something +that is ours, not yours at all! What right have you to take the +Hills--and _me_, without paying well for the privilege?" + +During this harangue the man had stood motionless, gazing in growing +astonishment upon the radiant uplifted face which was swept by passion's +clouds, as the June sky was swept by softer ones. + +"By Jove!" he muttered at last; and a smile broke upon his handsome, +browned face. "You Quintonites make us pay well for all we get. You +swoop down upon us like a cloud of vultures, or witnesses; but it's +driving the bargain pretty hard, when you set a price upon what we see +in it all, and what heaven meant should be free. As for you--" he +paused, and threw himself full length upon the sand and laughed good +humoredly, "I beg your pardon. I really had no right to put you in the +picture without your permission. I thought, as true as heaven hears me, +that you were like--well, the other girls of the place, and they coax to +have themselves 'taken' as they call it. Now that I hear you speak, I +see that you are different, and I beg your pardon, 'pon my word, I do. +And what's more, the sketch is yours, unless you give me the right to +keep it. I'm afraid I cannot make you understand my position, but the +temptation to put you in the picture was too much for mortal +painter-man!" + +Janet's face cleared slowly. + +"If you mean I'm different from the other girls, because I speak +differently," she said slowly, "I can tell you that it is simply because +I've listened and read more. I hate to use words badly, when they sound +so much better right. I practise, but I'm just a Quinton girl." + +"Oh! I see. You have higher aspirations? That is why you wanted to learn +to paint?" + +"No! At least, that isn't the real reason. I want money!" + +"Great Scott!" + +There was mockery and a new pleasure in the man's voice now. He was open +to revelation in regard to Quinton characteristics, and he sensed an +original type before him. + +"You to tell me in this brutally frank manner that you want money! You +with _that_ face!" + +A flush tinged the bronze of Janet's cheeks again. + +"Yes: I want money!" she said defiantly. "Some get it by waiting on +table. Some feed you and wash for you. I cannot do those things, I just +cannot!" + +"Heaven forbid!" + +"But there must be some way?" + +The frank, almost boyish tone disarmed the listener. His smile fled and +when he spoke the mockery had departed. His better nature rose to meet +the blind need in the girl's desire, and his artistic sense guided him +to a possible path. + +"I wish you would give me some name to call you by," he said. "You have +mentioned Cap'n Daddy, am I to understand that your name is--is--" + +"My Captain's name is Morgan: I'm Janet." + +"Thank you, Miss Janet. I haven't a card, but Mr. Richard Thornly +presents his compliments." + +The humor of the situation began to dawn upon the girl. + +"We are all captains down here," she explained, "we each have our +captain. Mine is over at the Station on the beach. I'm staying just now +with Captain David at the Light, while I'm looking for something to do." + +"Miss Janet, I have a business proposition!" Thornly folded his arms. +"I've had an inspiration. During the three-quarters of an hour that you +lay upon the sands, I saw you, not only as I saw you then and caught +you, but I saw you flitting through several pictures. I even named the +pictures, Spirit of the Dunes. I advise you for your own good, Miss +Janet, do not struggle to learn to make daubs! It never pays. It's hard +enough to make the best go. But you can help me, and together we'll +create some pictures that will set the town gaping. What do you say?" + +"I do not understand." + +"Well, sit for me; be my model! Let me put you in my pictures. I'll pay +you well, and if I sell the pictures, you'll have a kind of fame to +offer your Cap'n Daddy that no girl need be ashamed of. Have you caught +my meaning?" + +"You mean, if I sit here upon the Hills--" + +"Sit, stand, or lie among them," Thornly explained. + +"You'll paint me, and pay me, and then take your pictures to the city +and sell them?" + +"Try to," Thornly laughed easily. "I'm one of the few fortunate devils +who has sold a picture or two. My hopes for the future are good." + +"I'll do it!" cried Janet. "It's about the easiest way to get the +boarders' money I've heard of yet!" The laugh that rang out made Thornly +stare. + +"I did not know any one could laugh in quite that way," he said. "It +sounded--well, it sounded like part of the air and place. Miss +Janet,"--he spoke slower, feeling his way as he went,--"I'm going to ask +you to keep this business arrangement private. The other artists would +be quick enough to filch my prize if they could." + +"No one else shall paint me," Janet assured him. "If I see a little +wagon, I'll pull down my bonnet." + +"Thank you. And those on your side, too, Miss Janet! Your Cap'n Daddy, +and that Captain of the Light, I'd like to surprise them by and by. Is +it a go?" + +"Oh! yes!" The frank innocence in the girl's face again stirred Thornly. +"It's a go, if my watchers do not interfere." + +"Your watchers?" + +"Yes. I'm considered rather a--well, something like a ship that's likely +to be wrecked. I don't know why folks are always thinking I may go on +the bar, but they do. And several of them have an eye on me. I can +almost feel Daddy's eye way over from the Station; and there's Davy! I +shouldn't wonder now, if he were looking at me as he hauls the oil up to +the lamp; and Susan Jane, chair-ridden as she is, has eyes that go out +like a devilfish's feelers; and then there is Mark Tapkins! I'm afraid +you'll have trouble with Mark's eyes!" + +Thornly was laughing uproariously. "You open a vista of human +possibilities that makes me about crazy," he said. "Your associates must +all be Arguses; but I like not Mark! Just where does Tapkins come in?" + +"'Most everywhere!" Janet joined in the care-free laugh. She felt +perfectly at her ease with this stranger now. Born and reared where +equality and good-fellowship existed, she knew no need of caution. To +dislike a person was the only ground for suspicion. To like him was an +open sesame to heart and confidence. And Janet liked the stranger +immensely. + +"Mark comes in 'most everywhere," she repeated. "You'll have to look out +for Mark." + +"He loves you, I suppose?" Thornly forbore to laugh, and he searched +the frank face near him. + +"Now whatever made you guess that? He is not quite sure himself. He's +never sure of anything, and I never suspected it until lately--you're +rather keen." + +"Well, we'll escape Tapkins's eagle eye. Forewarned is forearmed. Now +see here, partner, can you blow this whistle?" Thornly took a small +golden watch charm from his fob. It seemed a toy, but when Janet placed +it to her lips and blew, it emitted a shrill, far-reaching call that +startled her. + +"I'll prowl in these parts every day, when it doesn't pour cats and +dogs," Thornly explained; "and when you can escape the watch,--come to +the Hills, blow the whistle and presto! change! I'll be on the scene +before you can count twenty. Miss Janet, fame and fortune yawn before +us--actually yawn. And now may I keep this?" + +He picked up the sketch and came close to the girl, his shoulder +touching hers, as they looked at the picture together. "Yes!" Janet said +softly, the beauty of the thing holding her anew, "yes! You've made them +your very own, the Hills, and me, and the sky and the water! It's very +wonderful. I never saw anything like it. If you only forget, it is easy +to imagine that this is a reflection!" + +"Thank you!" Thornly moved away. "Thank you! That's about the greatest +praise I've ever had. This is only a water sketch, too; wait until +you've seen it in oil! I've a shanty over there--" he pointed below +them, where a hollow, opening toward the bay, held a tiny building in +its almost secret shelter, "I'm generally there, when I'm not tramping +the open. Would you, eh--well, would you mind letting me pose you there +some day?" + +"Oh, no!" Janet beamed delightedly, "I'd love to see the inside of your +shanty. I dare say it's enchanted, and besides,"--she showed her white +teeth deliciously,--"I do not believe Mark could watch me there!" + +She rose and picked up her sunbonnet. "The sun has passed noon," she +said ruefully, "and I've a good three miles to walk. Good bye, Mr. +Thornly, it's been a wonderful morning." She started rapidly down the +hill. Thornly waved to her as she went, until a friendly hillock hid +her. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"Well, my boy! To think of you drifting down here. Have a cigar, and put +your feet on the railing. I tell you, you may travel the world over, and +there isn't an easier posture known, than the Yankee one of 'feet higher +than head.'" + +John Devant and Richard Thornly sat upon the wide veranda of Bluff Head; +and Thornly, being thus given the freedom of Yankee position, planted +his feet upon the high railing, tipped back his broad-armed chair, and +inhaled the smoke of his host's good cigar. + +"You've caught the language of the place already I see, Mr. Devant. Had +we met anywhere else, another word would have done; 'drifting' applies +here. No one 'runs down' to Quinton, or 'happens' down; one just +naturally 'drifts.' It's a great place." + +"You like it, eh?" Mr. Devant let his eyes rove over the wealth of color +and wildness, and puffed enjoyably. + +"It's immense! Strange, isn't it, how a place can lie slumbering for +generations, right at our doors, and no one has sense enough to look at +it? And after all, it is while it is sleeping, or beginning to stir, +that it charms. Two years from now, when the rabble get onto the racket, +the glory will be gone. Think of picnics on the Hills! Imagine a crowd +rushing for the dunes, and the bay thick with sails! No! Let's make the +best of it while we may." + +Mr. Devant laughed. "I'll give it five or ten years," he said. "My +grandfather had a vision of its future prosperity. He bought acres here +for a mere song. He built this house, hoping the family would find it +comfortable for the summers. My father liked it so well that he settled +the library and general fixtures for a home, living winters at a hotel +in town. But the old place was too lonely for me in the past. I'm just +beginning to have visions, like my forebears. I'm sick of travel. Town +life ought never to charm a natural animal except during the months of +bad weather. My boy, I believe I'll settle down at fifty and take to +land speculation! I'll buy up round here, keep the grip of the rabble +off, and preserve this spot for the--pure in heart and them who have +clean, hands!" + +"'T would be a missionary work," Thornly rejoined lightly. + +"Who turned your eyes hitherward, Dick?" + +"Why, John Mason. He saw Chatterton's famous picture and came down and +discovered this garden spot. Poor old Mason! With his money pots and his +struggling love for beauty and simplicity, he is sore distressed. He +wanted to build a cabin on the dunes and live here summers, but Madam +and the girls almost had hysterics. They have just built a gingerbread +affair at Magnolia, and so Mason added a den to the structure. A huge +room overlooking the sea! It has space left on the wall for a big +picture, and Mason gave me an order. 'Go down to that heaven-preserved +spot,' he said, 'get the spirit of the place, and put it in my den. I +don't mind the price. Stay down all summer, but get it!'" + +"Do you think you can?" asked Devant. Thornly's gaze contracted. + +"I think I have," he replied, slowly flicking the ashes that had +accumulated upon his cigar. + +"Good! That means more glory. In this sordid age, and with an +uncomprehending public, you've had rare fortune in getting rid of your +work, Dick. Your pictures are sellers, I hear. How proud your father +would have been! My old friend was one of the few men I have known who +set a price upon genius above money." + +"Yes: I wish father and mother could have known. It's often a bit +lonely." + +"But there is Katharine. At least, I suppose, there is still Katharine?" + +"Yes," slowly, "there is still Katharine; and our relations are the +same. She's watching my stunts in art." + +"She's proud of you?" + +"She's proud of my success." Thornly smiled. "There's a difference, you +know." + +"Oh! yes. But Katharine is young. I'd like to see the child again. Is +she as pretty as her childhood promised?" + +"She is very handsome." + +"Full of life and dimples?" + +"Oh! she's giddy enough. Superb health, and undiminished scent for +pleasure! Katharine is an undoubted success." + +"I must have her down. My sister is coming at the month's end. I'll +write to Katharine to-night and plead my friendship for her parents. +Where is she? And I'll tell her you're here." + +"She's at South End, with the Prescotts." + +For some moments the older and the younger man smoked in silence. The +sun set in due time and Captain David's Light appeared. + +"What a living thing a lighthouse is!" said Thornly; "that and an open +fire have the same vital, human interest." + +"I believe you are right. When I find myself bad company, I always have +a fire built if the temperature is below seventy. Since I came here I've +taken to this side of the veranda, late afternoons, and I grow quite +chummy with Cap'n Davy's Light." + +Mr. Devant got up, stretched himself and took to pacing the piazza +slowly. + +"You know David of the Light?" asked Thornly. + +"As a boy I knew the characters roundabout here, somewhat. I'm trying to +reinstate myself in their good graces. This place produces strange and +unexpected types." + +"Yes, I found a pimpernel flower on the Hills to-day," said Thornly +irrelevantly. "Even the flora is startling." + +"You found what?" + +"A pimpernel. It's a common wild flower in some sandy places, but a +strange enough little rascal to be seen just here. It's called the poor +man's weather glass. Where it grows most common, it is not especially +noticeable; but it almost took my breath this morning. It's in keeping +with the surprises of the surroundings." + +Devant laughed. + +"Well," he said presently, "it must be a relation, same family, you +know, of a pimpernel of a girl I've discovered here." + +Thornly again contracted his brows. + +"Solitary flower? Shutting up at approach of storm, and all the rest?" +he asked. + +"Solitary flower, all right," Devant rejoined. "I'm not up on +plant-ology, but I've studied humans, off and on, and I cannot account +for this one. I don't know whether, in my position as friend to you, I +should bring this odd specimen to your notice, but I'd like to have you, +as an artist, pass judgment upon her beauty." + +"I might have the storm's effect upon this pimpernel of yours," Thornly +put in, "make her hide within herself." + +"I fancy storms would not daunt her. I don't know but that she would +rather enjoy them." + +Thornly yawned secretly. + +"Handsome, is she?" + +"Not only that," said Devant, "I suppose she is wonderfully handsome. +She has grace, too, and a figure, I should say, about perfect. But it +is her mental make-up that staggers me. She talks in one way and thinks +in another. She clings to her g's, too, in spite of local tradition. She +hasn't a passing acquaintance with 'ain't,' or the more criminal +'hain't.' Her English is good, she reads like a starved soul, for the +pure pleasure of it; and she thinks like a child of ten. By Jove! she +was here in my library, the day I arrived. She had a secret method of +getting into the house by a cellar window,--had done it for years. She +almost froze my blood when I saw her. I thought I'd struck a ghost for +certain. She was reading Shakespeare! Said she hadn't been able to get +beyond him for three months. She began to read when she was little, at +the bottom shelf, and has worked her way up to the fifth. And yet with +all that, she's a simple child, Dick. Smollett and Fielding and heaven +knows who else are on the third shelf!" + +"Lord!" cried Thornly, and laughed loudly; "who is this pimpernel?" + +"Janet of the Dunes. Cap'n Billy's girl! Been brought up like a wild +thing! Sails a boat like an old tar! Swims like a fish! Motherless--old +Billy, a poor shote, according to the gossip! The women have a sort of +pitying contempt for him; the men keep their mouths shut, but you can +fancy the training of this girl. I'm always interested in heredity and +I'd like to know the girl's mother. Something ought to account for my +pimpernel." Thornly was rising. + +"I'll try to account for my flower, Mr. Devant," he said. "I dare say +some untoward wind bore it from its original environment; it may be that +the same reasons exist in the case of this flower of yours. Good night!" + +"Stay to late dinner, Dick! You know you don't want to go back to a dish +of prunes and soggy cake. Better stay." + +"No. Thank you, just the same. I'm going to bunk out in my shanty +to-night. I've got a chafing dish there. The prunes were undermining my +constitution. Good night!" + +Devant watched him until the shrubbery hid him. + +"I'll get Katharine down as soon as I can," he mused; "and for his +father's sake, as well as his own, I'll try to keep him and the +pimpernel apart until then. His engagement to Katharine is a safe +anchor." + +But while Davy's Light shone friendly-wise upon Bluff Head, it also did +its duty by a lonely little mariner putting off from Davy's dock. + +It had been a hard day for Janet. Susan Jane, with almost occult power, +had seemed to divine the girl's longing to get away. + +"Boarder or no boarder!" the helpless woman had snarled, "I reckon +you've got somethin' human 'bout you. If you can't stop an' do fur me, +I'll call David. I've had a bad night an' I ain't goin' t' be left t' +myself. There's stirrin' doin's goin' on; but no one comes here t' +gossip." + +"I'll stay," Janet had sighed, remembering David's worn, patient face +when he staggered toward the bedroom an hour before. "But I cannot +gossip, Susan Jane, I don't know how; and all the other folks are busy +cooking, feeding, washing for, and waiting on the boarders. City folks +come high, Susan Jane." + +"Well, if you can't gossip, Janet, there is them as can. Thank God! when +He took the use of my legs an' arms, He strengthened my eyes an' ears. I +can see an' hear considerable, though there is them who would deny me +that comfort if they could. What ails you an' Mark Tapkins?" + +"Nothing, Susan Jane." + +"Yes, there be, too. He's more womble-cropped than ever. They say his Pa +is makin' a mint of money sellin' them crullers of his'n. Who would +have thought of Mark's bein' smart enough to set his Pa on that tack? +The way these city folks eat anythin' that is give them is scandalous. +They must have crops like yaller ducks. Have you heard 'bout Mrs. Jo +G.'s Maud Grace?" + +"No, Susan Jane." Janet stirred the cake she was making by Susan's +recipe energetically. + +"You're deef as a bulkhead, Janet! I bet you're envious." + +"Envious, Susan Jane, envious of Maud Grace?" + +"Oh! you have had yer eyes open, eh?" + +"You just asked me about her, Susan Jane." + +"Did I? Well, it's simply amazin' how Mrs. Jo G. is developin' a +business talent. Actually keepin' her girl dressed up t' entertain the +boarders, evenin's! She's got some one t' help wait in the dinin' room, +an' she cooks. Jo G. sails the boarders, when they pay him enough, an' +that girl just sparks around an' acts real entertainin', evenin's. I +shouldn't wonder, with such a smart ma, if she caught a beau. I do wish, +Janet, since you ain't got no one but Billy,--an' every one knows he's +got 'bout as much gumption as a snipe,--I do wish you could land one of +these boarders. They must be real easy from what I hear." + +"I don't want them!" + +"Course you don't! An' you don't want t' work fur your livin', an' Mark +ain't good enough fur you. You'd better look out, Janet, I tell you fur +your good, it ain't safe fur you t' trust yer leanin's too far." + +So the day had passed. The afternoon had brought Mark Tapkins with his +gloomy face, too, so Janet had been obliged to give the Hills a wide +berth and only darkness brought relief. + +Susan Jane was bewailing her woes in David's patient ears,--it was +Mark's night in the Light,--so, unseen and unsuspected, Janet loosed the +_Comrade_, unfurled the white wing before the obliging land breeze, and +made for the Station. + +It was a glorious summer night; full moon, full tide, and a steady west +wind heavy with the odor of the Hills. + +As the little boat darted ahead, Janet's spirits rose as poor David's +did, when once he parted company with the burden of Susan Jane's peevish +egotism. She looked back at the Light and thought, with a little sigh of +weariness, that she was free from the watchfulness of the three within +its walls. + +"Only the Light has an eye upon me! Kind, good Light! Cap'n Daddy and I +do not need you to-night, but, come storm, then God bless you!" + +It was not the girl's intention to run up to the Station dock. She knew +that Cap'n Billy had the midnight patrol, going east; so she planned to +make for the little cove, midway between the Station and the halfway +house, and take Billy by surprise and assault. + +She chuckled delightedly as she constructed her mode of attack. She was +hungry to feel the comfort of Billy's understanding love and trust. The +more she had to conceal from Billy, the more she yearned to be near him. + +The _Comrade_, responding to the steady hand upon the tiller, shot into +the cove. The girl secured the boat and ran lightly over the dunes to +the seaward side; then she lay down among the sand grasses and waited. + +She seemed alone in God's world. The moon-lighted ocean spread full and +throbbing before her. The sky, star-filled and blue-black, arched in +unbroken splendor. The waste and solitude held no awe for this girl of +the Station. They had been her heritage and were natural and homelike to +her. Under summer skies and through winter's storms she knew the coast's +every phase of beauty or danger. It was hers, and she belonged to it. A +common love held them together. She crouched close to the sandy +hillock. The night was growing old, the tide had turned, and still she +sat absorbed in thought and tender memory. How beautiful the world and +life were! She took from her bosom the tiny whistle, which had been for +five long, delicious weeks her power of summoning unlimited joy to +herself. What a new element had entered into her existence! How powerful +and self-sufficient she felt as she recalled her part in those wonderful +pictures that were growing day by day in the shanty on the Hills! + +Her blood rose hotly in her young body, as she lived again, under the +calm sky, those weeks of perfect bliss. + +Suddenly the girl sat upright, put the whistle in its hiding place, and +strained her eyes toward the Station. + +Yes: there came Billy! He was striding along; head bowed, except when +conscientiously he gazed seaward, scanning with his far-sighted eyes the +bar where danger lay, come storm or fog. But could there be danger on +such a night as this? + +Billy, faithful soul, had not a nature attuned to the glory of the +night, but he had a soul sensitive to a brother's need. If he gave heed +at all to the summer beauty, it was merely in thankfulness that all was +well. + +"Help! help!" Billy stopped suddenly and raised his head. "Help! help! +Here's a poor, little brig on the bar!" + +A smile of joy overspread the man's face, a smile that drove all care +and weariness before it. + +"Ye little specimint!" he called, "what ye mean by burrowin' in the sand +an' scarin' one of the government officials clar out o' common sense? +Come here, ye varmint!" + +"My Cap'n!" The strong young arms were about the rugged neck. "You were +just going to send up a Coston light, now weren't you, Daddy?" + +"No. I war not! I don't waste nary a Coston on a wuthless little hulk +like ye. Come on, girl, I've been takin' it easy. I ain't as young as I +once was. We must make the halfway in season. 'T ain't the fust time +we've took the patrol together, is it, Janet?" + +He held the girl's hand in his, and she accommodated her step as nearly +as possible to his long, swinging gait. + +"Kinder homesick?" he asked presently. + +"Kind of you-sick! I wanted to be near you. I wanted--you," Janet +whispered. + +"Durned little cozzler!" chuckled Billy. "I know what yer up t'. Ain't +got nothin' t' do yet, over on the mainland; just a lazy little tormint; +an' ye want t' cozzen yer Cap'n Billy. Why can't ye jine the army that's +plain fleecin' the city folks? They be the easiest biters, 'cordin' t' +what I hear, that has ever run in t' these shoals. Reg'lar dogfish one +an' all." + +"Oh! I pick up a penny now and then;" Janet pursed her pretty mouth and +set her head sideways. "I made enough to pay Susan Jane for last week +and this. Susan's an old leech, Cap'n Billy. It's simply awful to see +her greed in money matters. Sitting in her chair, she can manage to want +more, strive to get more, and make more fuss about it, than any other +woman on the mainland. You have to live with Susan Jane to appreciate +her. Oh! poor Davy. We never really knew what a hero he is, Daddy. He's +splendid!" + +It had been necessary, unless Susan Jane was to receive double pay for +her boarder, that Janet should inform Billy as to her money-getting; but +once the fact was stated, the girl hurried to other thoughts, in order +to divert Billy. + +"How'd ye get yer money, Janet?" A serious look came into the man's +face. "It's uncommon clever of ye t' help yerself on; if the money only +comes in a God-fearin' way!" + +"Cap'n Daddy!" Janet drew herself up magnificently. "Do you take me for +Maud Grace?" + +"No, I don't, I'm takin' ye fur _my_ gal, an' it's my duty t' see that +ye don't furgit yer trainin' over on the boarder-struck mainland! But +what's wrong 'long o' Mrs. Jo G.'s gal?" + +"Nothing. Except she keeps dressed up to entertain the boarders, and +takes tips. That's what she calls them." + +"Tips?" Billy wrinkled his brows. + +"Yes. Money for doing nothing. Cap'n Daddy, I _work_ for my money." + +"Doin' what?" Billy's insistence was growing vexatious. + +"Daddy, don't you ever tell!" Janet danced in front of him and walked +backward as she pointed a finger merrily. + +The moonlight streaming upon the girl showed her beauty in a witchlike +brightness. It stirred Billy in an uneasy, anxious fashion. + +"There ain't no call t' tell any one," he said, "you an' me is enough t' +know. Us an' them what pays ye!" + +"Cap'n Daddy; I'm--a--model!" + +"A modil--what?" + +Janet's laugh rose above the lapping water's sound. + +"Why, Daddy! Don't you think I'm a model everything?" + +"No," Billy shook his head; "I ain't blind, gal, ye ain't what most +folks would call a modil, I'm thinkin'!" + +"Well, the artists think I am!" + +"The artists? Them womin in bonnets and smutchy pinafores? Gosh!" + +For a moment Janet's truth-loving soul shrank from deceiving Billy, but +her promise to Thornly held her. She stopped her merry dance and came +again beside him, clasping the hard hand tenderly within her own. + +"What do they think ye a modil of?" asked the man, and his face had +lightened visibly. + +"Oh! just what their silly fancy tells them. Only don't you see, Daddy, +dear, they don't want any one to know until the pictures are done. It +would spoil the--the--well, I cannot explain; but they want to spring +the pictures upon folks by and by." + +"'Cordin' t' what Andrew Farley tells," grinned Billy, all amiability +now, "no one will be likely t' know ye from a scrub oak stump when the +picters is done. Andrew says when he thinks of all it costs t' paint a +boat an' then sees the waste of good, honest paint up on the Hills, it +turns his stummick sick. Well, long as it is innercent potterin' like +that, Janet, I don't know but as yer considerable sharp t' trade yer +looks fur their money. It rather goes agin the grain with me t' have ye +git the best of them. But Lord! as the good book says, a fool an' his +money is soon parted, an' so long as they're sufferin' t' part with +theirs, I don't know but what ye have a right t' barter what cargo yer +little craft carries, as well as others what have less agreeable stores +on board." Janet laughed merrily. + +"Mark Tapkins was on yisterday," Billy continued; "he says Bluff Head's +open an' Mr. Devant an' a party is there. Must be quite gay an' altered +on the mainland." Janet's face clouded. + +"Cap'n Daddy," she faltered, "I'm going to tell you something else." + +"Yer considerable talky, it seems t' me." Billy eyed the girl. + +"Cap'n Billy, have you ever wondered why I talk better than most of the +others at the Station?" + +"I don't know as I would allow that ye _do_," Billy replied; "ye talk +differenter, somewhat, but I don't know as it's better." + +"Well, it is. And it isn't all the teachers' doings either, Daddy, for +Maud Grace and the rest never changed much; but for years, Daddy, I've +been crawling in the cellar window of Bluff Head, when no one on earth +knew, and I've read five shelves of books! I've thought like those +books, and talked like them, until I seem to be like them; and, Daddy, +the day Mr. Devant came home, he found me in his library-room, reading +his books!" + +"Gawd!" ejaculated Billy, and stood stock still. "Did he fling ye out, +neck and crop?" he gasped at last. + +"Daddy! he's a nice old gentleman!" + +"Old? He ain't dodderin' yet. An' he use t' have a bit of pepper in his +nater. What did he do?" + +"Do? Why, he gave me the key to his front door. He reads with me and +tells me what to read. We're great friends!" + +"Yer 'tarnal specimint!" Billy was shaking. "I see ye've caught the +mainland fever, eh, gal? Ye don't want t' bide on the dunes 'long o' old +Billy, now, eh?" + +"You blessed old Cap'n!" Janet struggled to hold her prize. "I'm +perfectly happy! And I had to come over here to-night and tell you." + +"Janet,"--Billy's eyes were dim,--"I keep wishin' more an' more that ye +had a ma. I ain't never thought openly on it fur years, not since ye +was fust borned. But as ye grow int' womanhood, ye seem as helpless as +ye did then. I wish ye had a ma!" + +The little halfway house was in front of them. Andrew Farley, who served +on the crew at the Station beyond, was in the doorway. + +"What ye got in tow, Billy?" he called jovially. + +"Jest a tarnal little bit of driftwood, Andy." Billy rallied his low +spirits. + +"Hello, Janet!" Andrew recognized her. "How comes ye kin leave the +mainland? I thought every one who could, stuck there t' see the show. By +gracious! Billy, ye jest oughter see how things is altered." The two men +exchanged the brass checks, then, before returning to their stations, +they stood chatting easily. + +"Been up to the Hills lately, Janet?" The girl flushed. + +"Not very," she replied. "Come on, Cap'n Daddy, I'm going to stay on and +sleep in the cottage to-night." + +"Them artists," Andrew continued, turning slowly in his own direction, +"them artists is smudgin' up the landscape jest scandalous. One of them +wanted t' paint me, the other day, an' I held off an' let her. Lord! ye +should jest have seen wot she done t' my likeness! I nearly bu'st when +she showed me. I ain't handsome, none never accused me of that crime, +but I ain't lopsided an' lantern-jawed t' the extent she went. She said +I had a loose artistic pose; them was her words, but I ain't so loose +that I hang crooked." + +Janet slept in the cottage on the dunes that night; and when the men +rose to go through the sunrise drill, she ran down the beach, across the +sand hills, and set her sail toward the mainland. She had had her +breakfast in the Station with the men and, recalling her difficulty in +escaping Susan Jane the day before, she headed the _Comrade_ away from +the Light and glided toward the Hills. + +Mark Tapkins, turning down the wick as the sun came up, saw the white +sail set away from home; and something heavier than sleep struck chilly +upon his heart. He knew from past spying where Janet was going! + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +Janet, used as she was to the keen, sweet air of the Hills, stood, after +securing her boat, and drew in deep breaths of the fragrant morning. She +had taken off her shoes and stockings, for the dew lay heavy upon the +ground; and these, wrapped in a fish net, were flung across her +shoulder. There was a good half mile to tread before the little hut +could be reached bodily, but the whistle's call, going on before, would +open the gates of Paradise if Thornly were there! The girl did not put +her doubt to the test just yet. There was bliss in dallying with the +joy, the bliss of youth, innocence, and unalloyed faith. + +Thornly might have stayed, as he generally did, at his own boarding +house or at Bluff Head. Janet had learned of his intimacy there, +although she had never imagined Mr. Devant's ingenuity in trying to keep +them, at first, apart. If Thornly were away from the shanty, Janet knew +the hiding place for the key; she could enter at will and the secrets +of the treasure house were not hidden from her. + +"Lock the door after you, whether you are in or out," was Thornly's +command. "No one must know, until the very last!" And the girl would +have cheerfully defended the place with her life. Over sandy hillocks +she went gleefully. The artist in her was throbbing wildly, she had a +new inspiration for Thornly's brush! She led his fancy in riotous joy. +Where his genius grew slack, hers urged him to renewed effort. + +The morning came up ruddily from the sea; it came with a south-wind +playfulness, which tossed the girl's glistening hair with free touch and +kissed the glowing face into richer beauty. + +Presently the little, secluded hut came into view; the very next hollow +held it! Janet stood upon the last hill, drew out her whistle and with +smiling lips, that with difficulty formed themselves to the task, sent +forth her call. The musical note penetrated the stillness. A bird rose +affrightedly from a near-by bush; but it, and the waiting girl, seemed +to have the Hills to themselves. + +"So much the better!" murmured Janet, sparkling with excitement. "It +will be all the more surprising." She ran rapidly forward, secured the +key and opened the door. Then she obediently locked it again and stood +within the room gazing tenderly at every beloved object. It was just as +Thornly had left it. He had waited all day for the girl; he had wanted +her to pose in the open, but she had failed him and he had evidently +devoted himself to the picture he was painting, as he had told her, for +his own private use. "My Pimpernel," he called it, and rough as the work +was at that stage, it was full of beauty and promise. It was Janet, +little more than sketched, to be sure, but a startling likeness; and the +wreath of pimpernel flowers, on the glorious sun-touched hair, had +evidently been the artist's last work. + +The throne-like space, with the cushions and low divan upon which the +girl posed, was in full view, with Thornly's jacket and pipe lying +carelessly upon it. The curtain, which always hung over the picture for +Mr. Mason, was drawn aside. Apparently the man had had less reason to +hide that from any chance visitor. Janet walked over to the table and +raised the cover of the chafing dish. + +"He ate at the boarding house," she whispered, "else I'd have to wash +this. He's scandalously untidy!" She picked up a glass and sniffed. + +"Wine!" she announced, "wine for a party,--and cracker crumbs! Company! +I wonder who? One, two, three, four wineglasses. Bluff Headers!" Then +the smile trembled before the memory of Mr. Devant's proud, haughty +sister and the young lady unlike any one the dune-bred girl had ever +seen before. Not even the most gorgeous boarder in the least resembled +her. She was so icily cold, so calmly beautiful; so exquisitely dressed +in white, white always, with a dash of gold to match her smooth, shining +hair! No power could draw Janet to Bluff Head after the one visit during +which the two ladies had frankly and condescendingly taken stock of her, +evidently in consequence of remarks made by the master of the house. + +For the first time in her life, Janet had felt the resentment of being +"looked down upon." Had she a particle of malice or suspicion in her +nature, the resentment might have rankled and grown into hate, for the +girl had all the pride and independence of the place. As it was, she had +withdrawn into herself, like the flower to which she had been likened, +and had vanished from sight. + +"I won't wash the glasses!" the laugh rang merrily like the laugh of a +child; "let her wash her own glass, and soil her pretty frock." + +But this declaration of independence did not prohibit a general tidying +in other respects. The north window shade was rolled up and the sash +raised; the easel drawn out into place before the low stool; and the +jacket and pipe arranged conveniently at hand for the master when he +should appear. + +"And now," rippled the girl, "I'll give him a surprise and a shock!" +First, she went outside, relocked the door and hid the key; then nimbly +entered the hut by the north window. Once inside again, she closed the +window and, trembling with excitement and hurry, ran to the posing +platform and flung herself among the cushions. Then she spread her hair +loosely over the sea-green pillows that rose around her. The net was +caught up and draped about the slim, graceful body. Eyes and small brown +feet showed between the meshes; the conceit was deliciously bewildering! + +When all was arranged, she cautiously let fall the shielding curtain and +waited. + +"He'll come early!" she whispered, "oh! very early. And I wonder what he +will call this picture?" + +The night's patrol, and the mastering of Billy, had tired the girl. The +couch was sleep-enticing, the pillows dream-bringing, and the day was +yet young; so Janet slept, a vision to touch any heart, one to stir an +artist to holy rapture. + +How long she slept Janet never knew, but the grating of the key in the +lock awakened her. Her heart beat wildly and the blood ran riotously in +her veins. The door opened, some one spoke; and then, as if before a +north blast, all the glow and glory of Janet's joy froze within her! + +"Wasn't I clever to watch where he hid the key, Mr. Devant? And how +utterly good of you to enter the conspiracy and help me find him out! I +know he has an immortal picture somewhere here! He wants to spring it +upon you and me along with the herd, by and by. But we wish to be +partakers in the pleasure of preparation, do we not, Mr. Devant?" + +The musical voice had a ring in it not altogether lovely. "Stand aside, +Mr. Devant! See, he must have brought his work out after we left +yesterday. It was orderly enough then; but look at it now! Let us +examine this upon the easel. But first, open the door. I smell stale +wine. The untidy fellow has not washed the glasses!" + +Mr. Devant opened the door and said with a half laugh, "I'm not quite +sure how Dick will like this, Katharine. But while the cat's away--" + +"Ah!" The word came sharply. "Mr. Devant, look here!" The two were +standing before the easel. + +"Good Lord!" cried the man. "The Pimpernel! Katharine, this Dick of ours +has prepared a surprise for us sure enough!" + +"He evidently had reasons for holding us at bay, Mr. Devant." A thinly +veiled sneer was in the low, even voice. "He has been using that wild, +odd, young creature of yours as a model! And he has never told you? I +greatly fear our sly Dick has been--well, deceitful!" + +"Oh! my dear girl!" Devant reassured her, "you do not understand. Dick +has probably had to procure such a model upon terms of secrecy, not on +his own account, but hers! You do not know these people. They are not +above taking money, but they make their own terms." + +"Terms?" Again the scornful tone. + +"Yes, my dear! Why, what do you think would happen if I called my cook +Eliza instead of Mrs. Smith? Starvation, my dear, actual starvation! And +I carry my own laundry to Mrs. Abner Snow's,--carry it and fetch it. +This girl now might be willing to pose, and you must admit that she is a +raving beauty, but she would hold Dick to a cast-iron vow never to let +any one know. What's more, I can take my oath, knowing these people as I +do, that the girl never sets her foot in Dick's shop without a body +guard of at least one captain, perhaps three or four!" + +"Let us see if he has any more secrets!" There was relaxation in the +clear voice. "Let us hurry; Dick may be here at any moment, and I do so +want to get ahead of him just to punish him for his underhand methods!" + +Janet heard the two turn; she knew they were coming directly to the +platform. + +"Once,"--the slow, fine voice had regained its smoothness,--"once in New +York I dropped in at Dick's studio when he did not expect me. I wanted +him to take me out to luncheon; and I had the oddest experience! Oh! Mr. +Devant, look at that bit, pinned to the wall! That is really exquisite! +Well, as I was saying, I stole in upon Dick. I called from the outer +room that it was I--I wished afterward that I had not!--and then I ran +into the studio. As quick as a flash, Dick dropped a curtain, just like +this, between me and his easel! I was determined to see what he had been +painting, but he positively forbade it. He said it was a painter's +prerogative to warn even--love from that holy of holies. I often wonder +what was behind the curtain. I realized from that moment that if you +want to see a great artist's best work, you must override his modesty +and secretiveness--and tear the screen from his altar!" + +With a light laugh, the girl now drew aside the sheltering curtain with +playful, dramatic force, and lay bare the secret that it hid! + +Janet did not move. Her great, startled eyes, dark, intense, and +passion-filled, stared helplessly at the two, who, transfixed, returned +the stare in frozen silence. So rigid and deathlike the model lay in the +meshes of the net, so beautiful and graceful in her motionless pose, +that for an instant the intruders could not trust their senses. Then the +woman found voice and action. + +"I fear," she said slowly, coldly, and distantly, "I fear we really have +intruded where we have no right, Mr. Devant." Then she laughed a rich, +rippling laugh. "And the captains! where are the captains, my dear Mr. +Devant? They seem to have omitted the captains to-day. Pray let us go at +once. I would not interfere with Dick's future fame for all the world! I +can quite understand why artists hide their best work at times!" +Without a word, Mr. Devant dropped the curtain. + +Janet heard them go out, heard them lock the door, and realized that +they hid the key. She tried to get up, but the intention was only mental +and died without an effort. A physical sickness and bodily weakness held +her. To lie still was the only course possible, but the thoughts rushed +madly through the awakened mind. In that hour womanly instinct was born, +the instinct that armed itself against suspicion and another's contempt. +Shame, for what was not real but suggested by a coarser mind, hurt and +blinded her. The child in Janet had been killed by that white, cold +woman, and what arose was more terrible than the slayer could have +imagined, for this new creature scorned the innocence and weakness of +that lately crushed childhood. It held in contempt the poor, vain, cheap +thing that had offered, actually offered, itself to a being that came +from a world that knew and had power to despise. + +Wave after wave of torment engulfed the poor girl as she lay without a +struggle in her net. The apple of understanding had been forced between +her lips by the refined cruelty of another woman. Instinctively, Janet +found a sort of dumb comfort in the memory of the look she recalled in +Mr. Devant's eyes, but while life lasted her soul would shrivel at the +memory of the glance which that proud, beautiful girl had cast upon her. + +The lovely face upon the sea-green pillows paled and flushed as the +flood of growing knowledge gathered force. The eyes grew dark and +terror-racked, and misery claimed the newborn woman. + +Then again the key grated in the lock. Strengthened by the perception +that was now hers, the girl sprang to a sitting posture and drew her +feet beneath the shelter of the coarse red skirt. The net ensnared her +further and so she sat, caught fast in the meshes and in the terror of +her condition. + +Thornly entered the room, closed and locked the door. Then he opened the +windows wide. His eye and ear would warn him of intruders, and the +breath of the summer day he must have! Janet heard him stop before the +easel; then his laugh, contented and youth-filled, rang clearly in the +little room. + +"Beauty!" he muttered. "Great heaven, what almost weird beauty! My +Pimpernel, you'll make me famous!" Then he whistled gayly, hung up his +coat and hat--did not the listening girl know every movement?--drew on +the old paint besmirched jacket, and filled his pipe. + +"Dirty wineglasses!" he muttered, "bah! how the stale wine befouls this +air! Outside you go to await your purification!" The glasses were set +jinglingly upon the window ledge. Then Thornly came to the curtain and +flung it heedlessly back. + +"Good Lord!" he ejaculated, and staggered away. The panic-stricken face, +that met his, paralyzed him for the moment; then he laughed. + +"Pimpernel!" he drew nearer; "dear child, you are as full of surprises +as this glorious day and the Hills. You've brought me a new sensation, a +heaven-sent inspiration. What a partner you are! God bless you!" + +"Don't you--touch--me!" Janet warned off the extended hands. Her arms +were free, and they must serve her now. + +"Janet! What ails you, child?" + +"I do not know. I cannot think. Only I know you must not touch me; +and--and I'm not a child any more!" + +Then tears came, a wild, remorseful flood. The girl swayed upon the +couch, torn by the emotions that lashed her cruelly. Thornly stood +apart. Something undefinable held him to his place. He recalled the +first day he had met this strange girl upon the Hills and her tears +then; but these were different. In a subtle, unspeakable way he realized +that something startling had brought about this changed condition from +yesterday's Eden-like life. + +"I wish you could tell me what is the matter," he said pityingly and +quietly. He did not move toward her, but his tone, with its sympathetic +reserve, did the one thing he longed to do; it drew the girl's trust and +confidence. The storm of sobs lessened. The hidden face was raised and +the burden of fear and distress lifted slowly. + +"They--have been here!" The words came upon the crest of the last sob. + +"They--who?" Thornly's eyes contracted. + +"Mr. Devant and the one he calls Katharine." + +"Great heavens! And you let them in?" + +"They found the key and came in." Thornly muttered something inaudibly. +"They wanted to see your pictures; they saw everything, and me!" Again +the misery spread over the vivid face. Thornly was unable to take his +eyes from that pitiful gaze, but for a moment his own position in this +play held part. + +"What did they say?" he asked at length. + +"Mr. Devant said nothing! I cannot remember what she said--but whatever +it was, it made me know that she thinks me--oh! what can I +say?--something too awful to bear! And you, you knew what women like her +might think! That is why you made me promise not to tell; that is why +you kept the door locked! You knew how the people like her would scorn +me! and yet you would not save me! Oh! I know it was because of your +pictures! You would let folks like her think what they wanted to, so +long as you got what you wanted!" The brief confidence in him was gone. + +There was a power in this fury that shook Thornly as he listened. The +blazing face of outraged womanhood confronted him, and the accusation +brought truth and torment with it. + +"Get what I wanted?" he groped blindly in his soul for an honest answer +as to what he had wanted. + +"Yes. What you wanted! You wanted my face, because it is beautiful; +because I was like this place, the Hills and dunes! You thought me like +them, just a thing to put upon your canvas to make you rich and famous! +But I am a girl, like that girl up at Bluff Head! I am as good as she!" + +"My God!" Thornly looked at the bowed head, that sank again beneath the +waves of passion. His eyes grew dim and his face paled. His soul had +answered and had passed judgment that gave him grace to breathe freely! + +"Janet," he said gently, "my poor girl! I am going to wait by the door +until you get out of the net and into your shoes; then come to me. I +have much, much to say to you." He did not offer, by thought or motion, +to assist her. He turned and sat guard by the open door, puffing +vigorously at his pipe. + +Janet disentangled herself and put on her stockings and shoes. Then, +shod and with a strange dignity, she crossed the room and stood beside +the man, leaning against the jamb of the door for support. + +Thornly looked up and smiled; then he shook the ashes from his pipe, +placed it in his pocket, and offered Janet his stool. She shook her +head. + +"I'll sit on the sand," she said, and sank down outside the door. + +"My poor Janet," Thornly began, "I do not know what to say. I want to +make you understand and I am afraid I may make further mistakes. I see I +have wronged you. In a sense, I've been a bungling fool; but as true as +God hears me, I didn't want you upon my canvas for any low or mean +reason. I swear that as truly as I ever spoke. It seemed my right to +make live what I saw in you. Maybe it was not my right--I begin to fear +it was not--but it seemed so at first. I don't know how to say it, but +somewhere I have read a thought like this. When an artist enters his +studio he hangs up his passions with his coat and hat. You won't +understand that. No woman can, perhaps, and not many men; but it's true +as surely as heaven hears me! and it accounts for a deal of good as well +as bad! That is the way I felt. I was greedy to catch you as I saw you. +I wanted no one to share the triumph. I never thought of women like +Katharine or men like Mr. Devant. I did think of the Quinton folks, and +that is the only reason I locked the door! Please try and believe that, +my dear girl! If I had one unselfish thought, it was for you and for +your people, not for the others like those at Bluff Head. I could have +told them all about it when my pictures were hung at the Academy; and +that would have ended it." + +The girl upon the sands sat with hands clasped around her knees. Her +dark, clear eyes never wavered from the speaker's face, and Thornly saw +trust and a growing calm rising in them again. + +"If I had gone far enough in thought," he continued, "I might have hoped +that such beauty and power as you have would have made you great and +strong enough in nature to want to help make these pictures, in spite of +everything! I believe in a slow, dull way I did think that about you +once in a while. I know I never meant to harm the woman in you, Janet; +believe me, I swear that!" + +His eyes met hers and never faltered. The girl drew a long breath. Then +she shivered slightly and sighed again. + +"I--I think I see, a little, what you mean," she quivered; "you thought +I was better than I am. Higher, nobler than some folks, because I am +so--so beautiful?" Not a shadow of common vanity rang through the words. +"You thought I would be glad to help in your pictures and never care +what others might think, others who cannot understand? You are a great +artist, and you thought me an artist--but in a different way? Oh! it +comes to me just as Davy's Light comes of an early morning, when the fog +lifts. What a mean, wretched thing I have been to let stings hurt, when +that splendid picture--waits--for--me!" A radiance spread over the +wistful face. Thornly was dazzled and could only stare helplessly. + +"See," she had arisen, and stood before him in all her strong, young +beauty; "you need me? Without me you cannot make your splendid picture?" + +Thornly shook his head. + +"It is not the money you want, nor just the fame, but you want to give +the world a great joy." + +"Yes, yes! As God is my witness, Janet, that is my desire." + +"Then I will help. Oh! forgive me! Come, please, come, only"--here she +smiled pitifully--"please leave the door open! It shall never matter +again; nothing can change things now." + +Thornly staggered to his feet and half extended his hand to draw the +girl in; then something stayed him. + +"I cannot paint to-day, Janet," he whispered. "Something is changed. +Perhaps the old longing will return, but I must not trust myself until I +know. Go, little Pimpernel, you are the greater artist of us two!" + +"I'm very sorry the day is spoiled," she returned brokenly; "if I had +only known more, it would have been different. It seems as if I cannot +ever forgive myself." + +She turned, and went sadly over the hills with never a backward look. +And Thornly gazed after her with yearning eyes. She was taking with +her--what? Inspiration? Yes, but something deeper and more vital was +passing with that vanishing form. What was it? What had occurred to +change the summer sunlight to drearest gray? + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Late August hung heavily over Quinton. The city folks, who counted their +year's playtime by two weeks' vacation, had come and gone, in relays. +The artists, never tiring of the changing charms of this new-found +beauty-spot, gave no heed to the passing season. Only cold, and acute +bodily suffering could attract their attention. Good, poor, and +indifferent revelled in the inspiration-haunted Hills and magnificent +sweep of shore. + +The natives counted their gains with bated breath and dreamed visions of +future summers that made them dizzy. + +Poor Susan Jane was the only woman, apparently, upon the mainland, who +had swung at anchor through all the changed conditions. Susan, who once +had been the ruling spirit of the village and Station! Susan, whose +sharp tongue and all-seeing eye had governed her kind! Susan had been +obliged to gather such bits of driftwood as had floated to her chair, +during the history-making season,--and draw such pleasure from it as +she could. The strain had worn upon the paralyzed body. The active mind +had stretched and stretched for material until the helpless frame +weakened. The sharp tongue was two-edged now, and gossip that reached +Susan Jane assumed the blackest color. Her searching eyes saw through +everything, and gripped all secrets. + +David's songs, as he mounted the winding stairs, took on a soberer +strain. Sometimes he omitted, even at the top, his hilarious outburst to +the "lobster pots;" and his sigh and laugh combination was an hourly +occurrence. + +Janet noticed it all. She was alive to the atmospheric chill of the +village, though in no wise understanding it. She was troubled and +fretted by many things, but she went her way. The money she had earned +by posing she dealt out in miserly fashion to Susan Jane; while at the +same time she assumed many household cares to ease David, whom she +loved. + +There was no more money coming to her now, for after the scene in the +hut upon the Hills Thornly had gone away for a week, and upon his return +he had told Janet he would send her a message when again he needed her. +The man's tone had been most kindly, but it seemed a rebuff from which +the girl had not been able to recover. Once or twice she had stolen to +the hut, when she was sure the master was away; always the key was in +its hiding place. Softly she had gone in and stood in the sacred room. +The same picture stood ever upon the easel, the same beautiful +unfinished picture! Upon one visit the girl had taken a rare pimpernel +blossom she had found in a lonely hollow and laid it on the empty stool +before the canvas. It was still there when she went again! Faded and +neglected it lay before the shrine, and the message never came that was +to call her to the Hills. + +The people of the village, too, were different. They were busy and took +small notice of the girl. Business, Janet thought, was the only reason. +Mrs. Jo G. in particular was changed, but it had been a hard summer for +Mrs. Jo G., and when, after many attempts to secure Janet as waitress, +she had failed, she turned upon the girl sharply. + +"You might be doin' worse things!" she snapped, "you're growin' more an' +more like yer ma, an' it ain't t' yer credit!" That was the first inroad +the oncoming wave of sentiment had made in the bulkhead of local +reticence. + +Janet started. "What do you mean?" she asked. + +"What I say. An' what's more, Janet, if you can't turn in an' be useful +t' them as was good enough fur you before, you can stop away from us +altogether. I don't want Maud Grace t' get any fool notions in her +head." + +Once Janet would have turned upon such an attack, but somehow the spring +of resistance was checked. After all what did it matter? But she took +her mother's picture from the carpet-bag that night and hid it in her +blouse with the long-silent whistle! More and more she remained at the +lighthouse. Seldom, even, did she sail over to the dunes and never +unless she felt strong enough to leave a pleasant impression upon Billy. +Over all this, Mark Tapkins watched and brooded, and he slouched more +dejectedly between the Light and his father's little home. + +"I tell you!" he often confided to his inner self, "city life is +blightin'! When I was there, it took the breath out o' me, an' now it's +come t' Quinton, it's knocked a good many different from what they once +was!" With this oft-repeated sentiment Mark reached his father's door +one day and through it caught the smell of frying crullers. Old Pa +Tapkins was realizing his harvest from the boarders by acting upon +Janet's suggestion to Mark. From early sunrise until the going down of +the sun, Pa, when not necessarily preparing food for three regular +meals, was mixing, shaping, frying, and selling his now famous cakes. +People, in passing, inhaled the fragrance of Pa's cooking and stopped to +regale themselves and take samples to friends who were yet to be +initiated. Pa and his crullers were becoming bywords, and they often +helped out, where meals at the boarding place failed and conversation +lacked humor. + +As Mark stepped into the kitchen, not only his father, but Captain Billy +hailed him. + +"Hello! Cap'n Billy," cried Mark, "come off fur a change, have ye?" + +"Yes, yes," Billy replied through a mouthful of cruller, hot enough to +make an ordinary man groan with pain. "Yes, yes; I've come off t' see +the doin's." + +"Well, there is considerable goin's on," Mark nodded, and calmly helped +himself to a cake that was still sizzling; "there don't seem t' be no +signs of lettin' up on us!" + +"Now, Markie!" purred Pa from the stove, "that ain't puttin' the case +jest as it is. Looked at from some p'ints, we are the clutchers." + +Pa was a mild little man with a round, innocent face, and flaxen hair +rising in a curly halo about it. His china-blue eyes had all the trust +and surprise of a newly awakened baby. Life had always been to Pa +Tapkins a mild series of shocks, and he parried each statement and +circumstance in order that he might haply recognize it if he ran across +it again, or, more properly speaking, if it struck him a smarting blow +again. Pa never ran at all. As nearly as any mortal can be stationary, +Pa was; but in the nature of things, passing events touched him more or +less sharply in their progress. + +"It ain't all their doin's, Markie, now is it?" + +"Like as not it ain't, Pa. Sold many crullers t'-day?" + +"I've sold all I've made, up t' this batch, Markie, an' I've been +putterin' over the heat since the mornin' meal." + +"Well, I'll lay the things on fur the noon meal, Pa, you tend t' +business." + +"But you ain't slept, Markie. Up all night an' no sleep nex' day! +'T won't do, Markie, now will it?" + +"I'll sleep, come night time." Mark seized his third almost boiling +cruller and turned to Billy. + +"You ain't seen Janet, hev you?" + +Billy looked guilty. "No, an' I ain't a-goin' t' this trip. Mark, how is +things at the Light?" + +"Squally as t' Susan Jane. Seein' others spry while she's chained by +the stroke ain't addin' t' Susan Jane's Christian qualities." + +"Stormin' at Janet?" + +"Janet comes in fur her share, but David gets the toughest blasts. I +don't see how Davy weathers it, an' still keeps a song an' a smile." + +"An' him doin' another man's stint, too," Pa put in, dropping a brown +ring on the floor, spearing it adroitly again, and flipping it upon the +paper-covered platter. "If William Henry Jones hadn't gone down in that +squall thirty years ago, an' if Davy hadn't thought it was his duty t' +carry out his mate's plans, I'm thinkin' Susan Jane might have been +different an' Davy might not have had sich tormentin' experiences. +Least, that is how it struck me thirty year back, an' it strikes me so +yet." + +Billy nodded appreciatively. + +"'T ain't always wise t' tackle somebody else's job," Mark joined in, +"that's what come t' me in the city. City jobs ain't fur you! that's +what I said t' myself. Salt air was in my nostrils, the sound of the sea +in my ears, an' I couldn't any more hear t' the teachin' of city ways, +than the city folks can learn of us here on the coast." + +Again Billy nodded. He felt his spirits rising as he looked upon this +man of the world and knew him as a friend. + +"Draw up, Pa and Cap'n Billy!" Mark had collected a large and varied +repast. "Have some cold fowl, Cap'n, an' a couple o' 'taters. Lay hold +of a brace o' them ears o' corn. Over half a yard long an' as near black +as purple ever is. Inside they're white an' milky enough. Have some +blackberry pie, 'long with yer fowl, Cap'n. 'T ain't every day you can +get Pa's cookin'; an' I bleve in mixin' good victuals. It's what Nater +does." + +Billy took everything suggested and ate it indiscriminately, and this +example was ably followed by his hosts. + +"Mark!" Billy after a long but significant silence sat back in his chair +and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, "Mark, I'm goin' t' ask ye +t' jine me in a rather shady job. Do ye happen t' know the particular +women painters as is usin' Janet fur a--modil?" + +Mark strangled over a kernel of corn and stared, teary-eyed, at Billy. + +"Modil?" he finally gasped, "modil? Why, Cap'n, that ain't no word t' +tack ont' Janet. Modils ain't moral or decint. I learned that in th' +city from a painter-chap as use t' come in t' the shop an' eat isters +when he could afford it." + +Billy's face lengthened. + +"'T is 'mong friends I speak?" Billy dropped his voice. Both men nodded. +"Well, Janet is a modil t' some of them dirty-aproned women painters! +An' I want t' see just how they've took her, an' what they calkerlate t' +do with the picter! Andrew Farley has been modilin' fur them, an' Andy's +'count of how he looks in paint ain't pleasant. I don't know as I want +Janet shown up in the city kinder onsightly." + +During this explanation Mark's countenance had assumed an expression of +intense suffering. Bits of gossip arose like channel stakes in the +troubled water of his misery. Like the bits of red cloth which marked +the stakes in the bay, Susan Jane's emphasis of such gossip fluttered +wildly in this hour. Through the channel, clearly set by these signals, +was a wide course leading direct to a certain hut upon the Hills of +which silent, watchful Mark knew! + +"She ain't no modil, Cap'n, don't say that!" he finally managed to get +out; "that's jest scandalous gossip." + +"She told me herself!" Billy brought his tilted chair to the floor; "an' +I got t' keep this visit secret. But, since the gal ain't got no mother, +I've got t' do double duty. Knowin' how up in city ways ye are, Mark, I +thought maybe ye'd pilot me on this trip. I'm turrible clumsy with +strangers, specially women, an' I want t' do what's right." + +"'T ain't--a--woman!" This declaration was wrung from Mark. + +"What's that?" Billy sprang from his chair. + +"Now, Markie, do be keerful!" cautioned Pa, "don't make no statement ye +can't stand by. Nation! that fat is burnin'!" + +"I said, 'twarn't no woman painter as done Janet. If she has been a +modil--an' 'twere you as said that--she's been one to a man!" + +The horror on Billy's face was pitiful. + +"Can you locate him?" he asked in trembling tones. Mark nodded. + +"Come on, then!" + +In silence the two departed. Pa hardly noticed them; the burning fat +claimed his entire attention. + +Mark strode ahead toward the Hills and Billy, with the swing of the +lonely patrols, brought up the rear. + +It was the dining hour and Quinton was almost deserted in the hot August +noon. + +"Don't let's get het up," advised Mark presently; "city folks is +powerful clever 'bout keepin' cool inside an' out." + +"I'm already het!" panted Billy. + +"Let's take it easier;" Mark paused in the path, and wiped his streaming +face. They did not speak again until Thornly's hut was almost at their +feet. Billy's face was grim and threatening, but Mark's showed signs of +doubt and wavering. His recollections of city calm and coolness were not +uplifting in this emergency. Folks in town had always outwitted Mark by +their calmness. + +Thornly's door was set open to strangers and whatever air was stirring. +He, himself, was sitting inside, his back to his coming guests and his +eyes upon the unfinished picture upon the easel. + +Remnants of a chafing-dish meal were spread upon a small table, and +silence brooded over all. It was only when Mark and Billy stood at the +door that Thornly turned. The look of expectancy died in his eyes as he +saw the weather-beaten countenance of Billy, and the shamefaced features +of Mark. + +"I do not want any sitters, thank you," said he. + +"We don't want t' set," Billy replied firmly and clearly. + +"I beg your pardon," Thornly smiled pleasantly, "you see nearly all of +them do. Won't you come in?" + +[Illustration: "The two men stood spellbound before the easel."] + +"It's cooler outside," ventured Mark. + +"There isn't much difference," said Thornly, rising courteously. + +"I'm Cap'n Billy Morgan!" This statement appeared to interest Thornly +immensely. + +"I'm glad to meet you," he answered. + +"Are ye a painter-man?" asked Billy. + +"I've been dubbed that occasionally." Thornly laughed. "What can I do +for you?" + +"Did you ever have a--modil?" Mark broke in breathlessly, feeling he +must help Billy out, no matter what his own feelings were. + +"I've even been guilty of that!" + +"Did ye ever have my Janet?" + +Poor Billy's trouble, knowing no restraint of city ways or roundabout +methods, rushed forth sharply. + +Thornly changed color perceptibly. + +"Come in," he urged, "the glare is really too painful." + +The two awkwardly stepped inside. Then Mark's eyes fell upon the canvas. + +"Cap'n!" he groaned, "look at this!" The two men stood spellbound before +the easel, and Thornly watched them curiously. + +"It's her!" muttered Billy, "it's her! Poor little thing! she's jest +drifted without a hand upon the tiller." The visitors forgot Thornly. + +"I didn't think I had more'n the right t' watch, Cap'n." Mark's voice +was full of tears as he said this. + +"Ye had the right t' shout out a call t' me, lad. You'd have done the +like fur any little skiff you'd seen in danger." Then he turned upon +Thornly. "What right hev ye got t' steal my gal's looks? An' what tricks +hev ye used t' git 'em, an' her happiness 'long with 'em?" + +Thornly winced. "Her happiness?" he asked helplessly, not knowing what +else to say. + +"Yes. Her happiness! Don't ye s'pose that I, what has watched her since +she came int' port, watched her an' loved her, an' sot hopes on her, +don't ye think I know the difference 'twixt her happiness an' the sham +thing?" + +"Good Lord!" breathed Thornly, "are you speaking truth?" + +Billy drew himself up with a dignity Thornly shrank before. + +"Thar ain't anythin' but the truth good enough t' use, when we're +talkin' of my little gal!" he said quietly. He felt no need of Mark, nor +knowledge of city ways. + +Mark was still riveted before the picture. Slow tears were rolling down +his twitching face. The calamity that had overtaken Janet was like +death, and this lovely smiling face upon the canvas was but the dear +memory of her! + +"I never meant to harm her," said Thornly presently. "I cannot hope that +you will understand; it has only recently come to me, the understanding. +I have always thought the artist in me had a right to seize and make my +own all that my eye saw that was beautiful. Lately the man in me has +uprisen and shown me that I have been a fool--a fool and a thief!" + +"That's what you are!" blubbered Mark, "that last's what you are! You've +taken Janet's good name, you've taken her happiness--and you've taken +her frum us!" Thornly's color rose, but a look at the speaker's +distorted face hushed the angry words he was about to utter. He turned +to Billy as to an equal. + +"Captain Morgan," he said quietly, "I have done nothing to harm your +daughter's good name, in the eyes of any man or woman! That I swear +before God. In that I yearned to make her wonderful beauty add to my +reputation, I plead my blind selfishness; but above all I wanted to give +to the world a pleasure that you can never realize, I think, and I +believe your daughter is great enough to give all, that I ruthlessly +took without asking, to help me give the world that picture!" His own +eyes turned to the pure, exquisite face. + +"Like as not she would!" Billy replied, "like as not she would. Was +there ever a woman as wasn't willin' t' fling herself away, if a man was +reckless enough t' p'int the path out t' her? An' do ye think I'm goin' +t' let ye take my Janet's dear face int' that hell-place of a city; an' +have folks starin' at her, folks what ain't fit t' raise their eyes t' +her? Ain't ye done her enough wrong without takin' her sacrifice, if +she's willin' t' make it?" + +"Good God, man! I'm willing to do all I can. That picture is worth +hundreds of dollars to me and untold pleasure to many besides, but I am +willing to do with it just what you think best." + +"Then cut it open, Mark!" Billy's tone rose shrilly. "Slash it top an' +bottom an' don't leave a trace o' Janet." + +Mark drew from his pocket a huge clasp knife. He trembled as he opened +it and stood back to strike the first blow. + +"Stop!" Thornly sprang between him and the canvas. "Stop! I could easier +see some savage devastate the beauty of these Hills. Wait! I swear to +leave it as it is. I swear that no eyes but ours shall rest upon it; +but you shall not destroy it!" + +Command and power rang in Thornly's voice. Mark wavered. Billy hung his +head. + +"Arter all," he groaned, "we ain't none o' us got the final right. +Janet's my gal, but her beauty is hers, an' God Almighty's. Keep the +picter till such time as my Janet can judge an' say. The time will come +when she'll get her bearin's, with full instructions, an' then she'll +judge among us all!" + +The two rough men turned toward the door. "When she tells ye," Billy +paused to say, "she'll be wiser than what she is t'-day, poor little +critter!" + +Thornly watched the men, in stern silence, until they passed from sight; +then he went back to the easel. + +"Pimpernel," he whispered brokenly, "poor little wild flower, out of +place among us all!" He drew a heavy cloth over the radiant face, and +with reverent hand placed the canvas against the wall in the darkest +corner of the room. + + * * * * * + +Late that afternoon Billy's boat put off for the Station in the teeth of +a rising gale and amid ominous warnings of thunder. + +Susan Jane grew more irritable and nervous as the storm rose. She feared +storm and lightning. + +"Janet, ain't that Billy's sail crossin' the bay?" she said. Janet came +to the window. + +"Yes, it is," she faltered; "and he's going on!" + +"Well, what do you suppose? Ain't he got t' get back by sundown? +'T would be a pretty pass if he'd come off at sundown." + +"But he's been off all day, likely as not!" Janet's lip quivered. + +"Well, s'pose he has. Are you goin' t' be one of them tormentin' women +who is always naggin' a man about what he's doin' an' what he ain't +a-doin'? Where's David?" + +"He's gone up into the Light, Susan Jane." + +The woman turned anxiously toward the window. "It's an awful storm +risin', Janet. Wind off sea, but changin' every minute. Draw the shade. +I'm fearin' the ocean will rise high enough fur us t' see the breakers +over the dunes! I ain't seen the ocean fur thirty odd years, an' I ain't +goin' t' now!" Her voice rose hysterically, like a frightened child's. +"I jest won't see the ocean!" Janet pulled the green shade down, and hid +from her own aching eyes the vanishing sight of Billy's struggling +boat, but her loving heart went with it as, spurning the wind and +darkness, it made for the dunes and duty! + +"All day!" the girl thought; "all day, and not to let me know! Oh, Cap'n +Daddy, what mischief have you been up to?" The quivering smile rose over +the hurt, but anxiety lay deep in the troubled heart. + +A crash of thunder rent the air! A blinding flash of lightning turned +the black bay to a molten sea. Janet could see it through the glass of +the outer door in the entry. + +"Janet!" + +"Yes, Susan Jane." + +"Come away from the draught! I think you might know, how if you got +struck by lightnin' I couldn't do a blessed thing but look at you." +Janet came into the darkened room. + +"Light the lamp!" Susan commanded. "I ain't goin' t' save oil, when I'm +in this state. Oh! Janet,"--a splintering crash shook the house,--"did +you ever hear the like?" + +"It's pretty bad, Susan Jane!" But the girl was thinking of the little +boat struggling on the bay, the strong hand upon the tiller, and the +faithful heart, fearless in the midst of danger. + +"Janet, since you ain't got no nerves, can you read t' me an' sort o' +drown the storm? I'm powerful shaken. I can't run if the house is +struck; I can't do nothin' but jest suffer." The woman was crying +miserably. + +"I'll read to you, Susan Jane; and the storm's passing. I can count +now." + +"How many? How many, Janet?" A blinding flash showed around the green +curtain's edge and dimmed the light of the kerosene lamp. + +"One--two." The awful crash stilled the word. + +"'T ain't fur enough off, Janet, to trust any! Oh! God help me! If I +could only put my hands over my ears!" But the poor, helpless hands lay +white and shrivelled in the woman's lap. + +"Here, Susan Jane. Shut your eyes tight and lean your head upon my +shoulder. There! Now when I see the flash I will cover your ears. That +will help." + +"Janet,"--a mildness stole into the peevish, whining voice,--"Janet, +times is, when I see that Billy warn't all wrong in his bringin' of you +up. He's sort o' left the softness like a baby in you." The hidden eyes +did not see the glare, but the thin form quivered as the girl's firm +hands were pressed over the sensitive ears. + +"It's kinder muffled-like," panted the woman. "In between, Janet, can +you say any of it?" + +"Your chapter, Susan?" + +"Yes. David knows the most of it, an' nights, bad nights, he says it +when he ain't so plumb sleepy he can't." + +"I'll say what I can, Susan Jane." The gray head nestled close to the +strong young shoulder. The nagging woman rested, breathing deep. The +fierce storm was rolling away; darkness was giving place, outside, to +the sunset glow which, during all the terror and gloom, had lain +waiting. + +"'And I saw a new heaven, and a new earth: for the first heaven and the +first earth were passed away and there was no more sea.'" Janet's voice +repeated the words slowly, tenderly. Their beauty held her fancy. + +"Davy explains that"--Susan's muffled words came dully--"this way. He +says the old happy time, when William Henry an' me was young an' lovin', +you know about that?" + +"Yes, Susan Jane." + +"Well, that was the first heaven an' earth fur us, an' it's passed +away!" The woman was sobbing as a frightened child sobs when fear and +danger have passed and relief has opened the flood gates. + +"I don't know how William Henry is goin' t' bide a new heaven without +any sea, Janet; he sot a lot by the sea! Always a-goin' out when it was +the wildest an' trickiest! He use t' say, he'd like t' go to glory by +water, an' he did, he did! I wasn't none older than you be, Janet, when +he went down, an' the cruel waves kept him, kept him forever!" + +"There, there, Susan Jane, you know they did not keep the part you +loved. That part is safe where there is no more sea!" Solemnly the girl +spoke as she smoothed the throbbing head. + +"Yes! Like as not you're right, Janet. An' he'll find other comfort in +that heaven. He was the patientest, cheerfulest body; an' never a quick +word fur me. Janet, don't you ever tell, but I'm afraid t' see the +ocean! I'm afraid, because I'm always a-thinkin' his dead white face +might come up t' me--on a wave!" + +"Poor Susan Jane! It will never come to harm you. I would not fear. I +love the sea. If it had been my William Henry, I should have watched for +his face shining in the beautiful curly waves, and had I seen it, I +would have stretched out my arms to him, and we would have gone away--to +glory together!" + +"Not if the face was a--dead face, Janet!" A horror rang in the words. + +"Somehow," the girl replied, "I could never think it dead, if it came +that way. 'And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there +shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there +be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.'" + +"That's it, Janet," Susan Jane's voice trailed sleepily; "the former +things are the things what has the tears, an' the pains, an' the hurts; +an' they must pass away before there can be any kind of a heaven that's +worth while. I wonder--" drearily, "I wonder how it will seem when I +ain't got any pains, nor any tears, an' when there ain't any more black +nights to think about them in? I'll feel terrible lost just at first. It +will be about as hard fur me t' get use t' doin' without them, as it +will fur William Henry t' do without the sea. I guess we'll all have +considerable t' do t' learn t' get along without the former things, +whatever they was. Maybe some of the joy will be in learnin' all over. +Janet, I'm powerful sodden with weariness. Weariness is one of the +former things!" A whimsical humor stirred the words. "Sometimes the +former things get t' be dreadful foolish day after day." + +"Let me carry you to the bedroom, Susan." Janet had assumed this duty in +order to spare David, the nights he must go up aloft. The thin, light +body was no burden to the sturdy girl. + +"There, Susan, and see the storm is past!" The evening glow was shining +in the bedroom window. "And I will undress you, just as easy as easy can +be, and put you so, upon the cool bed! The shower has cleared the air +beautifully. Now are you comfortable, Susan Jane?" + +"I'm more comfortable than what I've been fur a time past. Leave the +shade up t' the top, Janet; I like to see the gleam of Davy's Light when +it is dark. I like t' think how it helps folks find their way to the +harbors where they would be. Janet, that was a terrible queer thing you +said about the face in the wave." + +The girl was folding the daily garments of the tired woman and placing +them where David's bungling hands could find them for another day's +service. + +"What was that, Susan Jane?" She stood in the fair full light of the +parting day. + +"About it not being a dead face! That's been the horror of it, all these +years; it has always been a dead an' gone face! That's why I hated the +sea. But if"--and a radiance spread over the thin, wasted features--"if +it should be that William Henry came back t' me, alive an' smilin' as he +always did, why, like as not, I'd put my arms out--" then she paused and +the voice broke; "no, I could not put my arms out--but I could smile +like I've most forgotten how t' do, an' I could go with William Henry, +anywhere, same as any other lovin' woman! I never thought about his face +bein' alive in the wave! But, do you know, it's a real pleasant idee, +that of seein' the sea again an' William Henry a-smilin' an' wavin' his +arms like he use t' when he was bathin'! I declare it's a real grateful +thought. Janet!" + +"Yes, Susan." + +"I wish you'd go up int' the Light after you've cleared the settin' +room, an' tell Davy good night! I forgot t' say it when he started up. +We'd had some difference 'bout money; least, Davy had, I never have any +different idee about it. It's him as changes. Go get the box, Janet, an' +put it under the bed. If it wasn't fur me, I guess Davy would know!" + +It was after sunset, when Janet, hearing Susan Jane's even breathing, +felt herself free. She stretched her arms above her head and so eased +the tension. The manner of bearing life's burdens by the people of the +dunes was but an acquired talent with her. The first and natural impulse +of the girl's nature was to cry out against care and trouble, to make a +noise, and act! It was second nature only that had taught her to assume +silently and bear secretly whatever of unpleasantness life presented. + +"Oh! Cap'n Daddy," she had once cried to Billy, when something had +stirred her childish depths, "why don't we yell, and kick and scare it +off?" + +"'T ain't sensible with them as lives near the sea, Janet," Billy had +calmly returned. "The sea teaches a powerful pinted lesson 'long o' them +lines. Troubles is like the sea. When they is the worst, they do all the +shoutin' an' roarin' themselves, an' ye jest might as well pull in yer +sail an' lie low. When they is past, an' the calm sets in, 't is plain +shallowness t' use yerself up then. Folks in cities don't learn this +lesson; they ain't got no such teacher, an' that's why they wear out +sooner, an' have that onsettled air. They think noise an' bustle o' +their makin' can do away with troubles, but it can't, Janet. So like as +not, the sooner ye learn, the better." + +Janet thought of this hard lesson now as she stretched her strong young +body, and quelled the rebellious cry upon her lips. + +"I'll go up and bid Davy good night," she whispered half aloud. Then +lower: "Good night, my Cap'n Daddy! You've reached the dunes safely, but +you'll have to own up some day!" She waved in the direction of the +Station. + +"How dark the water looks!" she suddenly cried; "stars in plenty--where +is Davy's Light?" + +White and fear-filled, she sprang toward the stairs and ran lightly +upward. Slower she went, after the third landing; anxiety, added to +weariness, stayed the eager feet. If the Light were not burning, what +then? Just below the lamp and gallery was a tiny room with a table, +chair, small stove, and little glass lamp. Here, between the times that +David inspected his Light, he sat to read or think. As Janet reached the +place the darkness was so dense she could see nothing, but with +outstretched hands she was feeling her way to the door leading to the +steps into the Light, when she touched David's gray head, as it lay upon +his arms folded upon the table! He was breathing deeply and audibly, and +the girl's touch did not arouse him. Whatever the matter was with +David, Janet's first thought was of his sacred and neglected duty. She +ran on, and into the lamp. She struck the match and set the blaze to the +wick; then, when it was well lighted, she darted outside and withdrew +the cloth. The belated beams shot into the night as if they had gained +strength and power from the forced delay. + +"God keep the government from knowing!" breathed the girl; "it was only +a little while, and it ought not to count after all the faithful years." + +Weak from fear and hurry, Janet retraced her steps to David. He was +still sleeping as peacefully as a child. Under his folded arms was an +open book. Janet recognized it as one that Mr. Devant had given to David +recently, a little book of poems of the sea, poems with a ring and +rhythm in them that bore the golden thoughts to Davy's song-touched +heart. The man had fallen asleep like a happy boy, forgetting, for the +first time in his life, his duty. + +Janet lighted the little lamp upon the stand, and drew up a stool. The +minutes ticked themselves away upon Davy's big, white-faced clock which +hung against the wall. Eight, eight thirty, eight forty-five! Then David +sat up and stared with wide-opened eyes right at Janet. A moment of +bewilderment shook his awakening senses; then he gave his sigh and +laugh. + +"By gum!" he said, "jest fur an instint I thought I'd forgot my Light!" + +"It's all right, Davy," Janet nodded cheerfully. + +"Course!" Davy returned the nod; "course, ye don't s'pose I'd light my +lamp fust, do ye?" + +"Never, Davy!" + +"It's bad enough t' be napping. Like as not the government would turn me +out, an' with reason, if it caught on t' that. I don't know but I ought +t' confess. But Lord! I was that worn, 'long with Susan Jane's bein' +more ailin' than usual, an' the thickness of the air with the shower, +that arter I saw everythin' was shipshape, I guess I flopped some. I'll +forgive myself this once; but if it happens again, Davy Thomas, yer'll +write t' the government sure as yer born an' tell 'em what a +blubber-head ye air." + +Janet laughed, and stretched her arms out until she clasped David's +rough hands. "I'll go up an' take a look!" said the man; "stop till I +come down, Janet, I've got somethin' t' tell ye." + +"I came up to tell you," the girl called after him, "that Susan Jane +sent good night to you." + +"She did that?" Davy paused upon the step and his face shone in the dull +light. Janet nodded. Then Davy went to inspect his lamp. + + "But to us He gives the keepin' + Of the lights along the shore!" + +Janet smiled as the cheerful words floated back to her. Presently David +returned. + +"Everythin' is as it should be," he chuckled; "clear night, but changin' +breeze, an' the Light doin' its proper duty! Janet, while I slept, I had +the durndest dream, I can't get rid of it. I read once how the surest +way to get rid of an idee was t' dump it on another." + +"Dump away, Davy." + +"It made me feel kinder like I did long ago; an' then Susan Jane sendin' +that good night up, sort o' fitted in. Janet, I've been dreamin' about +William Henry Jones." + +Janet nodded. William Henry seemed recently to have assumed shape and +form to her. He had been but a name in the past. + +"I saw him a comin' up the stairs jest as plain as day, like he use t' +come when he came off, an' ran up t' me, if I happened t' be haulin' ile +up t' the balcony, or cleanin' the lamp, or what not. His face was +shinin' same as it use t'. By gum! I never see such a face as William +Henry had! It always seemed to be lit from inside. 'I've come fur +Susy,' he said. He was the only one as ever called her that, an' I ain't +heerd it since he went down int' the sea that mornin' he was +bluefishin'. 'I've come fur Susy, an' I want t' thank ye fur carin' fur +her like what ye have." Them was his words, as true as gospil. An' they +was turrible comfortin'. Fur, Janet, I ain't told it t' another soul, +not even t' Billy, but I always loved Susan Jane--fur myself. When +William Henry won her, I wasn't ever goin' t' let on, but when he got +drownded an' Susan had t' hustle t' keep life in her body, I jest out +an' begged t' take care of her--fur William Henry! I told that lie, +Janet, because I darsn't tell her I wanted her fur myself. I didn't +never care whether she loved me or not, after I knowed she loved William +Henry, anyway; but when he went, I wanted t' take care of her an' keep +her from the hardest knocks, an' I wanted it fur jest myself! After a +while I talked her int' it. She warn't never strong, an' work an' +grievin' made her an easy mark fur sufferin' an' so she let me take care +of her! But always it has laid heavy on my mind that I hadn't acted jest +fair t' William Henry. An' sometimes, when I've been settin' out on the +balcony, freshenin' up, I've planned it all out how I'd see him a +comin' over the dunes some day,--comin' out o' the sea what swallowed +him, with an awful look of anger on his smilin' face, 'cause I'd got his +Susy on false pretences, as ye might say. It's got kind o' wearin' on me +o' late, but Lord! when I saw William Henry t'-night, he was more +shinin' an' smilin' than ever. An' when he thanked me like what he did, +I nigh busted with pleasure. An' then as you told me 'bout Susan Jane's +good night, I jest sent up a prayer out there on the balcony, a prayer +of gratefulness fur all my blessin's. + +"Dreams is queer stuff, Janet. 'T ain't all as should be counted; but +then, ye don't count all the folks an' happenin's that pass ye in yer +wakin' hours. But when a dream, or a person, or an idee comes along, as +means a comfort or a strengthener, I take it that it is a sort o' duty +t' clutch it, an' make it real. When ye ain't got nothin' better, dreams +is powerful upliftin' at times. Gum!" David drew his shoulders up and +plunged his hands in his pockets, as if about to draw comfort from their +depths. + +"Gum! Janet. 'T ain't often I get duty and pleasure mixed, but ye stop +here, an' after I take another look at the lamp, I'm goin' t' run down +an' say good night t' Susan Jane. I know how she's lyin' awake, thinkin' +an' thinkin' of the past. Dreams don't seem t' come much t' Susan +Jane." + +David paid his visit to the Light, then descended the stairs, while +Janet took up the book of poems and turned the pages idly. David's dream +and all that had happened seemed to still her. How long she sat by the +dim lamplight she took no thought to find out. The words of poem after +poem passed under her eyes unheedingly. Once she went into the Light, +saw that all was well, and came back to the book. Presently David +emerged from the stairway. Janet was facing him, and the expression of +his eyes brought her to her feet, and to his side. + +"Davy, what is it?" she demanded. + +"He has come!" + +"Who?" + +"William Henry! He's taken her!" + +"No, no! Davy, it is not so, she is only asleep." David shook his head +and his eyes had a dumb agony in them. + +"'T ain't so, Janet! An' she's smilin' like she use t'. I ain't seen +that smile on her face in over thirty year. That's the way she use t' +look when she heard me comin' in the gloamin', an' thought it was him! +No, Janet, she wears--William Henry's smile!" + +Janet darted past him, but he stayed her. "I want ye should sit by her +till sun up. There's a brisk storm settin' in agin, an' 't ain't fit fur +ye t' go fur any one; an' I've got t' mind the Light. Stay 'long of her, +Janet. I'm glad she ain't got t' suffer any more, or nothin'!" A sob +choked the deep voice and seemed to follow the fleeing girl as she ran +down the winding stairs. + +Davy had placed the living-room lamp upon the table by Susan Jane's bed. +By its glow, Janet looked upon the woman under the gaudy patchwork +quilt. Apparently she had not moved since Janet had placed her there. +Without a struggle or pain she had gone forth. + +"Oh! Susy," the old forgotten name slipped from the girl's quivering +lips. "Oh! Susy, I just believe you saw his live, shining face on an +incoming wave! And when the wave went out, it took you both to glory! +But, oh! my poor, dear, lonely Davy!" Then the bright head bowed upon +the coverlid. "Susy, oh, Susy! I am so glad I held you while you were +frightened. If I hadn't I should never have forgiven myself. It was all +I could do for Davy, and William Henry, and you!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Susan Jane's funeral cast all other events into the shade. It was the +all-important topic of conversation and interest. David alone really +grieved for her; the others had suffered too keenly from Susan's tongue +and complaints to feel any honest sorrow in her passing. Her giving them +the opportunity for so comfortable and gratifying a funeral was, +perhaps, the one thing she could have done to cause them to respect her +memory. Janet saw poor departed Susan in a belated halo of romance, and +Janet was in the mood to be deeply touched. She no longer saw Susan old, +helpless, and ugly, full of small meannesses and sour criticism: she saw +her only as the young girl, little older than herself, for whom long ago +William Henry had always a smile, and a gentle nickname. It was +beautiful, to the trouble-touched girl of the dunes, to think that the +old lover came back for his sweetheart and paused, before claiming his +treasure, to thank poor Davy for his years of patient love and service. + +"And he understands, I know," Janet murmured, placing some autumn +flowers near Susan Jane, "he is glad that dear Davy could have the joy +that seemed to us all a burden. That's the way it is when the 'former +things have passed away,'"--the girl's tears fell among the +flowers,--"such things do not matter then; but here they do! Oh, they +matter most of all!" + +Mrs. Jo G., her boarders gone and her body weary from the summer's +strain, gathered her neglected social charms together for Susan Jane's +funeral. There would be a reunion of all Quinton that day. There would +be a repast worthy the minister's donation. Eliza Jane Smith had offered +her services as housekeeper _pro tem_. + +"An' a mercy, too!" snapped Mrs. Jo G., lapping a plaid shirt waist over +her scrawny chest. "Janet's 'bout as useful at such times as a flounder. +Lord save us! how I have fell away this season! We've cleared two +hundred dollars, an' about all my heft. Maud Grace!" + +"Yes, Ma!" Maud Grace appeared, bleached out and thin, her eyes red from +weeping and her voice shaky. + +"What in land's name is the matter with you?" Mrs. Jo G. paused to gaze +at the sodden face of the girl she had sacrificed much for during the +season. + +"Susan Jane!" faltered Maud. + +"You ain't mournin' fur her, are you?" + +"No, ma'am. But I don't want t' go t' her buryin'. I ain't got no +appetite fur corpses, they always make me faint." + +"Well, you're goin', faint or no faint! So look after the children, an' +get them ready. Land of love! I should think the sound of the stillness +up at the Light, after Susan Jane's clatter, would 'bout knock David +out. I will say fur him, that he's earned his reward. Do stop +snivellin', Maud Grace! You look as if you, 'stead of me, had frizzled +over the cook stove all summer! It's bad enough to think you didn't land +a beau, without lookin' as if you felt it! That Janet's goin's on hasn't +served her neither, but she ain't goin' t' gloat over you while you've +got a ma what can steer you straight. You get int' your best clothes and +perk up a bit; you can boss it over Janet. Her name is a soundin' cymbal +or soon will be! She's got her mother in her strong. It's sort o' wrung +out of me, since Janet's acted up so, though I had meant t' keep my own +knowledge." + +"I don't know as she's done anything much, Ma; jest trapsed on the Hills +some an' turned her nose up at boarders mostly. Mr. Fitch said,"--a +weak color flushed Maud's face for an instant,--"Mr. Fitch said she felt +herself high an' mighty. But that ain't no crime." Mr. Fitch's name was +one with which to conjure in the Gordon household. + +"Like as not he was runnin' after her!" Mrs. Jo G. was adjusting her +memorial pin, a dreary piece of jewelry, composed of the hair from the +heads of several dead and gone relatives; "but Janet wasn't after his +kind. She was a modil!" The woman whispered this information, glancing +hurriedly at the small children whom Maud was now getting into their +clothes. + +"What's that?" whispered the girl in return. The hints about Janet were +gathering force in order to break after the excitement of the funeral +was over. But Maud, with anxieties of her own, had heeded them but +slightly until now. + +"It's a thing no Quintonite ain't goin' t' stand fur!" quivered Mrs. Jo +G. "'T ain't proper. I guess Cap'n Billy had better have kept her over +to the Station." + +"But what is it?" insisted Maud, her voice almost drowned in the shriek +of one of the twins, whose long thin hair she had jerked by way of +emphasis. Under cover of the scream, the mother replied: + +"'T ain't fit t' talk about 'fore a self-respectin' girl. But I don't +want you should have anything t' do with Janet after t'-day." + +"Spell it!" pleaded Maud, shaking her younger sister into a sobful +semi-silence. + +"F-i-g-g-e-r!" spelled Mrs. Jo G. in an ominous murmur. Maud Grace's +flat, expressionless face took on a really imbecile blankness. + +"Figger!" she repeated over and over. "Figger! That's worse t' +understand than modil. I don't see why you can't talk plain talk, Ma!" + +"'Cause I told you. Whisper or shoutin', 't ain't the thing fur plain +talk; but I wanted t' give you a weapon in case Janet takes t' crowin' +over you--an' she ain't above it. She's wuss off than you be!" With +this, Mrs. Jo G. marshalled her host, and set out for the Light. + + * * * * * + +It was late in the day, after poor Susan Jane had been laid away in the +little graveyard back of the white church, that David slowly mounted the +lighthouse stairs, pausing as usual upon every landing. There was no +song upon his lips now. For the first time in thirty years, Davy felt +that song was impossible. All smiling and many-colored the landscape +spread before him at every opening, but the man sighed without the +laugh. + +"The higher up I git," he panted, "it seems I feel heavier hearted. I +ain't got nothin' now, nor ever more shall have. I've had my turn, an' +when I reach t' other side I can't expect poor William Henry t' share +her with me. Thirty years I had her, an' course I can't complain. I +ought t' be thankful William Henry didn't begrudge me them years. An' I +am thankful! Yes, I am thankful, an' somehow I believe the good God +ain't goin' t' let my heaven be blighted. In some way, He's goin' t' set +it straight fur us three over there! Maybe Susan Jane'll kind o' hanker +arter the care I gave. Maybe she's got kinder use t' it; and maybe, +since there ain't any marriage, or givin' in marriage, maybe she'll have +love enough fur us both!" + +This conclusion brought a joy with it that radiated the honest face. + +"That's the way out!" he murmured, standing upon the little balcony and +facing a sunset so gorgeous that the world seemed full of glory. "It's +come t' me as plain as William Henry come three nights back. It's borne +in upon me, that most all of life's riddles get answered, when ye get +up high enough t' leave hamperin' things below. Downstairs the loss of +Susan Jane kills everything but the heartache; but up here," Davy walked +around the Light, and looked tenderly at the land and sun-touched bay, +"up here, where Susan Jane never came, I can see clearer, bein' +accustomed t' havin' it out alone with God, so t' speak, fur the last +ten years!" + +And now the sun was gone! Its gladsome farewell to Davy in the Light +made the smile gather on the wrinkled face. + +"Your turn'll come," he said smilingly in the old words, "your turn'll +come." Then he went down to the little waiting room, lighted his own +lamp, and took the book of poems from the table. + +He was ready for his next duty! He was soon lost to all but the swinging +thought in the ringing lines. Davy was himself again! Then, suddenly, he +was aware of a hand upon his shoulder. So tense were his nerves that had +he looked up and seen either William Henry or Susan Jane, he would not +have been surprised. But it was Janet, and her eyes were full of +brooding love. + +"Davy," she said, "do you remember how I used to play 'hungry man' with +you, when I was a little girl?" + +"I do that, Janet!" The cheerful, old face beamed. "'Have ye had any +supper?' yer use t' ask, 'have ye had any supper, Mr. Hungry Man?'" + +"Let's play now!" The girl laughed gently. "_Have_ you had any supper, +Mr. Hungry Man? Why, I can see you just as plain as plain, Davy! You +used to stand inside the lamp and the lenses made you long and thin and +dreadfully starved looking." + +"But once I got outside the glass I plumped up quick enough!" Davy +returned. He saw the look in Janet's eyes that called for bravery in +him. She was pale and pitiful, and he turned comforter at once. + +"It's all dependin' upon the position ye take, how ye look t' others. +Once ye get outside of most things, ye straightway freshen up an' get +likelier lookin'!" + +"You've had no supper to-night, Mr. Hungry Man!" Janet put her face +close to Davy's. + +"I ain't sufferin' fur food, Janet." + +"You never own to any suffering, Davy, but look here!" She ran to the +landing and brought in a large tray, neatly spread with food. "It isn't +leavings," she explained, placing the dishes before him; "Eliza Jane's +cooking is for company, mine for Davy and me! I made the biscuits +myself. Aren't they flaky?" + +"They are _that_!" nodded Davy; "flaky don't do them justice; they're +flakes. An' that coffee! By gum! Janet, that smells like coffee!" + +"Davy, it is coffee!" The girl was glowing, and her eyes shone blue in +the lamplight. "I'm going to eat with you, Davy,"--she drew up a +stool,--"eat and talk." Davy fell to with a suddenly awakened appetite, +but Janet watched him above her clasped hands. Presently she said: + +"Davy, who is going to--to--" She was about to say, "keep house for +you," but, recalling Susan Jane's helplessness, she said instead, "who +is going to keep you from being awfully lonely, now?" + +"Why, Janet,"--Davy's full mouth hampered his speech,--"I reckon I'll +have t' stay lonely straight on t' the end. I've had my life." + +"Davy, will you share me with Cap'n Billy?" Davy gulped his mouthful and +tilted his chair back. + +"I'm a masterful hand at sharin' folks, Janet, but some one 'sides Billy +may have something t' say as t' this bargain. There's Mark, now." + +"No, Davy, there is no one, and that's the end of it! I'm a--well, a +failure in getting anything to do from strangers, and so I thought if +you would let me, I'd share with you and Billy, and by working very hard +I'd make my board and keep." The sweet face quivered. + +"Ain't the paintin' business paid, Janet?" Davy, during sleep-filled +days and lonely nights up aloft, had caught no drifting gossip to +disturb him. + +"No, it hasn't paid!" The girl drooped forward wearily. + +"Billy said ye was helpin' a woman painter." + +"The women have all gone now, Davy." + +"That's the wust of foreign trade," comforted David. "Ye can't depend on +it." + +"No, but I mean to be a good housekeeper, Davy. I am going to make you +and my Cap'n Billy Daddy just cosy. I reckon I'm better fitted for +_home_ trade." + +"Like as not, Janet, like as not. Most women are, if they only get +convinced 'fore it's too late. Well, I'll be powerful thankful t' have +ye around. 'T ain't any way fur a man t' live, without the woman's +touch. Sometimes I've fancied that's what makes women restless. Men +don't credit them with 'nough importance." + +"You've eaten a fine supper, Mr. Hungry Man!"--Davy had eaten it +all,--"and now I'm going downstairs to make things homey. I wish the sun +rose earlier; good night, Davy!" She bent and kissed his seamed and +rugged cheek. + +"Good night, Janet, an' God bless ye!" + +At every window on the way down the girl stopped to look out at the +stars that were thick in the early autumn gloaming. She was aware of a +lack of joy in life--one has to know sorrow and trouble to recognize and +classify it clearly. Knowledge was coming slowly to Janet. Hope had +buoyed her up, the hope that Thornly would let her prove that she was +stronger and braver than that silly creature he had once thought her, +but, as time dragged on and no call came from the hut upon the Hills, +hope died. Then she had seen Thornly drive past her one day with that +white girl from Bluff Head. The pale, exquisite face had suddenly grown +scarlet at the sight of Janet by the wayside, and Thornly had stared +right ahead, taking no heed! Since that day the lack of joy had grown +apace. + +She had gone to the hut upon the Hills and hung the tiny whistle upon +the door latch. She would never call him again! She had not looked for +the key; she had not thought of entering. No longer had she a right +there. + +Billy had deferred his explanations to the girl after his visit to the +hut; the sudden death of Susan Jane had postponed the day. + +At the foot of the lighthouse stairs Janet paused and held her breath. +Some one was moving about the rooms! Some one with a candle, for the +flickering shadows rose and fell upon the inner chamber wall. The room +in which Susan Jane had died! No fear of a robber stirred Janet, the +time had not come when Quinton must fear that. It could not be Mark +Tapkins. He might be foolish enough to use his "off night" haunting the +Light--his actions were curious of late--but had it been Mark, he would +have been sitting patiently on the outer steps. Janet waited a minute +and then went noiselessly into the sitting room, and tiptoed to the +bedroom door. Then she started back, nearly dropping the tray of empty +dishes. The intruder was Maud Grace. She held a lighted candle, and she +was hunting, evidently, for something, for she looked under the bed, in +each drawer, in the closet; and at last she got down upon the floor and +thrust her hand beneath the bedclothes! It was not her actions, alone, +that startled Janet, but the dumb look of misery upon the pale, stupid +face. + +"Maud Grace!" + +The crouching girl gave a muffled cry and then sat upright, clasping her +hands closely. + +"What are you looking for?" It seemed an odd way to put the question. It +sounded as if Maud were in her own room and had only misplaced some +article of clothing. + +"Her money!" The words were clear and hard. "Susan Jane's box! I know +what you think, Janet, you think I'm a thief! But I've got--to--have +money, an' I'll pay it back!" + +"Come out in the sitting room, Maud. I'll light the lamp and then we can +talk." + +The calmness of tone and words gave the girl upon the floor courage to +rise and go into the next room. There she sat down in Susan's old rocker +and waited until Janet made a light. Then they faced each other, Janet +taking her place upon the horsehair sofa. + +"You're just as bad as me!" cried Maud suddenly. The steady look Janet +bent upon her angered and repelled her. "You ought t' understand how 't +is." + +"I don't know what you mean," Janet replied, "but I'm not bad enough to +steal a dead woman's money." + +Maud turned a bluish white and her misery-filled eyes fell. + +"I had t' have money. I darn't ask Pa or Ma; I can't tell anybody, but +I've got t' have money to go away. I could have sent it back, somehow, +once I got away!" + +"Where are you going?" Janet's voice had the ring of scorn in it, though +she tried to think kindly. + +"Ah! you needn't put on them airs!" Maud was trying to keep the tears +back. "You ain't any too good with your modillin', an' you--you--a +figger!" + +This did not have the desired or anticipated effect upon Janet. She +looked puzzled. + +"Somehow you sound as if you were talking in your sleep, Maud Grace," +she said, "you don't seem to have any sense. But you've got to explain +about the money!" + +At this Maud sprang from the chair and flung herself beside Janet. She +must have help; and this girl, doubted by all the moral village folks, +was her one hope in a desolate hour. + +"I've got t' go after him!" she sobbed. + +"After him?" Janet could not free herself from the clinging arms. + +"Yes, Mr. Fitch. Ah! Janet, if you was good like all the rest, you +couldn't understand, but all day I've been thinkin' how you would stand +up fur me if you knowed! He made love t' me, Mr. Fitch did, an' now he's +gone, an' he don't write, an' I know he's never comin' back. Somethin' +tells me. An' oh! Janet, I've got t' have him! I have, I have! I only +meant t' take the money till I got to him. I found his card in his +bedroom after he went. He didn't tell me true where he lived, but the +card's all right. An' I've got t' go!" The girl's thin voice was hoarse +with emotion. She clung closer, and her breath came hard and quick. + +A loathing filled Janet as she listened, a loathing made bitter by the +insinuation of her similarity to this poor, cringing creature beside +her. + +"You don't want him if he doesn't want you, do you?" she asked slowly. + +"I do that!" Maud's tone was doggedly miserable. + +"Even if he is trying to get away from you?" The memory of the weak, +boyish boarder at Mrs. Jo G.'s added force to this question. + +"Yes!" + +"Then, shame to you, Maud Grace! I wouldn't say such a thing as that if +I were to die!" + +"Maybe"--the wretched girl groaned--"maybe you ain't just like me. +Somehow I can't think you are; but, Janet, it's worse than dyin', this +is. I've got t' go!" + +The poor, pleading face was raised to Janet, but its dumb agony met no +understanding emotion. A stir outside caused both girls to tremble with +fright. + +"I've heard every word you've said!" Mark Tapkins stood in the doorway +opening upon the porch. "I was a settin' out there, sort a-watchin' an' +thinkin' o' other things an' not noticin' what was passin', till all of +a suddint it come t' me, that I had been a listenin' an' takin' in what +wasn't intended fur me. I'm glad I did!" His slow face lifted proudly. +"I'm glad I was used, so t' speak, fur this end. Maud Grace, you ain't +got any call t' bother Janet no more. I understand you!" His eyes rested +upon the forlorn girl and she shrank as before fire. "I understand, an' +this is man's work. You come along home, an' t'-morrer you give me that +card of his'n, an' I'll travel up t' town, an' fetch him back!" + +"Mark!" Janet was on her feet, her eyes blazing, "you mustn't help her +in this foolish business. You have no right to interfere. You have no +right here! She shall not make herself so ridiculous as to send for a +man who is trying to get away!" + +Mark looked at her gently, patiently. + +"Sho! Janet," he soothed, "you leave things you don't understand t' them +as does. I'm goin' t' fetch that feller back. I know his kind, the city +breeds 'em! Maybe the bracin' air down here will help him. Come along, +Maud Grace, it's nateral enough fur me t' take you home frum Janet's." +Janet made no further effort to change Mark's intention; and he and Maud +went away together. + +When Janet heard them close the garden gate, she went into the bedroom, +took the money box, that poor Maud had so diligently sought, from the +top shelf of the closet, and put it in a bureau drawer; then she turned +the key in the drawer for the first time in all the years. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +"Well, it's a relief to me, Dick, to know that you do know!" Mr. Devant +shrugged his shoulders, and laughed lightly. "Katharine and I have had a +sneaking desire to ask you if you'd found us out, but we waited for you +to make the first move." + +"I'm slow to move in any game," Thornly replied. "I rather think it +comes from my chess training. When a child begins that pastime, as you +might say, in his cradle, with such a teacher as father, it's apt to +influence his character." + +"Exactly. Have a cigar, Dick; it's beastly lonely to puff alone." + +"Thanks, no. I've smoked too much in my hut on the Hills. Being alone +always drives me to a cigar." + +The two men sat in the library at Bluff Head. A fire of driftwood +crackled on the hearth and a stiff wind roared around the house. + +"Of course we had no right to enter your studio,"--Mr. Devant spoke +slowly between the puffs of smoke,--"except the right that says all is +fair in love and war. I admit that I was shaking in my boots that day +for fear you might come in upon us. Katharine was braver than I. You +must own, Dick, that you hadn't treated the girl quite fair." + +"I do not grant that, Mr. Devant. I think Katharine had no cause for +complaint. Good Lord! a doctor's wife might quite as well feel herself +aggrieved because her husband's dissecting room is closed to her." + +"Come, now, Dick!" Devant threw his head back and laughed; "it's +carrying the thing too far when you liken the Pimpernel to a +disagreeably defunct subject." + +"It all goes to the making of one's art; that is what I mean. It belongs +to the art and need not be dragged into public to satisfy a woman's +morbid curiosity." + +"Or a man's?" The laugh was gone from the face of the older man. + +"Or a man's, since you insist." Thornly looked into the depths of the +rich glow upon the grate and took small heed of his companion's changed +expression. + +"And your model gave us away?" + +"I beg pardon?" Thornly drew himself together; "what did you say?" + +"I said, your model, the Pimpernel, told you? It must have given the +little thing a bad half hour to be found out." + +"It killed her childhood," the young man returned; "it died hard, and it +wasn't pleasant for me to witness, but, thank God, the woman in her +saved her soul from utter annihilation. Somehow, I have always wanted +you and Katharine to know this." + +"Thank you. You have told Katharine?" + +"No, I'm leaving to-morrow. I'm going to tell Katharine to-morrow night. +I waited for her to speak first to me; I hoped she would to the last. +All might have been different if she only had." + +"Perhaps Katharine is generous enough to forgive you unheard?" ventured +Devant. + +"No woman has a right to forgive a man in such a case, if she suspects +what Katharine did!" The keen eyes drew together darkly. + +"How do you know what Katharine thought, Dick?" The older man was +growing anxious. + +"A woman thinks only one thing, when she strikes that kind of a blow, +Mr. Devant. The effect of the blow upon the object was proof enough of +its character. I happened to be in at the death, you know." + +"Dick, you're a man of the world; this sort of sentiment is not worthy +of your intelligence. Katharine is a loving girl and naturally a bit +jealous of you and your dissecting room. You must realize she had cause +for surprise that day? Why, the little devil looked like a siren and the +bare feet in the net were breathtaking. I think, under all the +circumstances, for Katharine to overlook it in silence proves her a +large-hearted woman." + +"Or an indifferent, determined one!" + +"Dick!" + +"I feel rather more deeply, Mr. Devant, than you have, perhaps, +imagined. This means much to me. I have never had but one ideal of +womanhood that I have cared to bring into my inner life. My mother set +my standard high." + +"Your mother was an unusual woman, my boy." + +"The unusual is what I have always admired." + +"You are too young to be so unelastic." + +"I'm too young to forego my ideal, Mr. Devant." + +Presently Saxton entered the room with a tray of glasses and a bottle. +After he was gone, Mr. Devant took up the subject anxiously. + +"I was your father's friend, Dick, your mother's too, for that matter. I +do not want you to do a mad thing in the heat of resentment. Katharine +Ogden is a rare woman, a woman who will be the one thing needful to make +your success in life secure. Her fortune will place you above the +necessity of struggling. You can paint as genius moves and give the +public only your best. She is beautiful; she loves you, is proud of you, +and knows the world, the world that may be yours, in every detail. She +is your ideal, my boy, your ideal, lost for a moment in the fog." + +Thornly listened, and suddenly Janet's simile recurred to him: "It comes +to me just as Davy's Light comes of an early morning when the fog +lifts!" The memory brought a tugging of the heartstrings. + +"You have scattered the fog, Mr. Devant," he answered. "I own I was in +rather a mist, but you bring things out most distinctly!" + +"And you will not go to Katharine at once? You see I am presuming upon +old friendship and a sincere liking for you." + +"I only wish there were a night train!" Thornly gave vent to a long, +relieved breath. + +"You hold to your purpose, Dick? I feel that but for me this might not +have occurred. I should have restrained the child that day." + +"I shall tell Katharine all, Mr. Devant. I am sure she will ask me to +release her from a tie that can be only galling for us both." + +"You will be playing the fool, Dick,"--a note of anger rang in the deep +voice,--"a fool, and something worse. Gentlemen do not play fast and +loose with a woman like Katharine Ogden!" + +"I am sorry you judge me so harshly." Thornly flushed. "I should hardly +think myself worthy the name of man, if I followed any other course. To +marry Katharine with this between us would be sheer folly. To refer to +it must in itself bring about the result I expect. I have no desire to +enter Katharine's world and she has no intention of adopting mine. She +has always believed I would use my success as a step to mount to her. +That her world is less than mine has never occurred to her." + +"But if the girl loves you?" + +"She does not love _me_. Had she loved me, she must have spoken +since--that day." + +Mr. Devant arose uneasily and walked about the room, then he came back +and drew his chair close to Thornly's. + +"Will you take a glass of my--wine?" he asked huskily. + +Thornly was about to decline, but changed his mind. + +"Thanks, I will," he said instead. And the two sipped the port together. + +"Dick, this has shaken me a bit. I feel that I have an ignoble share in +the whole affair. I'm getting to be an old man; I can claim certain +privileges on that score, and if life means anything past forty, it +means sharing its experiences with a friend. I'm going to speak of +something that has never passed my lips for nearly twenty years." + +"You are very kind, Mr. Devant." Thornly set his glass down and thrust +his hands in his pockets. "I appreciate your friendliness, but please do +not give yourself pain. If life means anything under forty, it means +getting your knocks at first hand." He tried to smile pleasantly, but +his face fell at once into gloomy, set lines. + +"I'm afraid," Mr. Devant went on, keeping his eyes upon his companion's +face and guiding himself thereby, "I'm afraid some Quixotic idea of +defending this little pimpernel of ours moves you to take this step. +Believe me, nothing you can do in that direction--unless indeed you have +gone too far already--can avail, if you seek the girl's happiness." + +A deep flush rose to Thornly's cheeks, but the proud uplift of the head +renewed hope in the older man's heart. + +"You say," he continued, toying with his glass, "that to drag Katharine +from her world would be ruinous to her; to drag this child of the dunes +from her world would be--to put it none too harshly--hell! I've looked +the girl's antecedents up since that day on the Hills. I've had my bad +moments, I can assure you. It's like trying to draw water out of an +empty well to get anything against their own from these people down +here; but I had hopes of the girl's mother. I pin my faith to ancestry, +and I am willing to build on a very small foundation, providing the soil +is good. But the mother in no wise accounts for the daughter. She was a +simple, uneducated woman, with rather an unpleasant way of shunning her +kind. James B. Smith, my gardener, permitted me to wring this from him. +He doesn't fancy Captain Billy Morgan, thinks him rather a saphead. He +hinted at a necessity for the marriage of this same Billy and the girl's +mother. It's about the one sin the Quintonites know as a sin. They come +as near going back upon each other for that transgression as they ever +come to anything definite. The girl is the offspring of a stupid +surf-man and a nondescript sort of woman. She is not the product of any +known better stock; she is, well, a freak of nature! You cannot +transplant that kind of flower, Dick. The roots are hid in shallow soil +of a peculiar kind. If you planted her in, well, in even your artistic +world, she would either die, shrivel up, and be finished, or she might +spread her roots, and finish you! I've seen more than one such case." + +Thornly shook himself, as if doubtful what he should reply to this man +who, above all else, in his own fashion, was trying to prove himself a +friend. + +"Thank you again, Mr. Devant," he said at last haltingly; "I suppose all +men as old as you are sincere when they try to help us younger chaps by +knocking us senseless in an hour of danger. But it's better to let us +see and know the danger; we'll recognize it the next time. All I can say +is, that I have formed no plans for after to-morrow night! I've got to +get out into the open if I can. I rather imagine my art must satisfy me +in the future." + +Devant went over to a desk between two bookcases, opened it, and took +something from a private drawer. + +"What do you think of this?" he asked, handing Thornly an old +photograph. + +"I should say,"--the younger man looked keenly at the picture,--"I +should say that it was an almost ideal face of a certain type." + +"Of a certain type, yes." Devant came closer and leaned over his +companion's shoulder. "The coloring, of course, is lacking. I never saw +such glorious hair and eyes. The eyes gave promise of a nobility the +woman-nature utterly lacked. That girl, Dick, has wrecked my life!" + +Thornly handed the photograph to Devant. He felt as if he were in some +way reading a private letter. + +"Your life does not seem a wrecked life," he said confusedly. In a vague +way he wished to repress a confidence that he felt, once told, might +wield an influence over his own acts, and this his independence +resented. "You have always appeared a thoroughly contented, successful +man." + +Devant laughed bitterly; then he idly placed the photograph in a book +and closed the covers upon the exquisite face. Thornly hoped that would +end the matter, but his companion was bent upon his course. He stretched +his feet toward the fire and looked into the heart of the glow, with +sad, brooding eyes. + +"Happy!" he ejaculated, "happy! It is only youth that estimates +happiness by superficialities. A smile, a laugh, a full pocketbook! You +think they mean happiness?" + +"They are often the outward expression." + +"Or counterfeits. Have you ever read 'Peer Gynt,' Dick?" + +"Yes. Ibsen has a gloomy charm for me. I read all he writes in about the +same way a child reads goblin tales. I enjoy the shivers." + +"You remember the woman who gave Peer permission to marry the one pure +love of his life but stipulated that _she_ should forever sit beside +them?" + +"Yes!" Thornly smiled grimly. "That was a devilishly Ibsen-like idea." + +"It was a truer touch than the young can understand. Those ghostly women +of an early folly often sit beside a man and the later, purer love of +his life. Some men are able to ignore the gray spectres and get a deal +of comfort from the saner reality of maturer years; I never could. That +girl"--he touched the closed book as if it were the grave that concealed +her--"has always come between me and later desires for a home and closer +ties. Her wonderful eyes, that looked so much and meant so little, have +held me by a power that death and years have never conquered." + +"She died then?" Thornly could no longer shield himself from the +undesired knowledge; he must hear the end. + +"Yes. She came from near here, poor little soul! I can never get rid of +the impression that her death was hurried, not only by trouble, but +sheer homesickness. You cannot fit these slow, quiet natures into the +city's whirlpool. I was a young fellow, down for the summer. I was +ensnared by her beauty, and hadn't sense enough to see the danger. She +followed me to the city,--took a place in a shop, and was about as +wretched as a sea gull in a desert. I was fool enough to think it a +noble act to befriend her and so I complicated matters. My father must +have found out, though I was never sure of that. Father was a man who +kept a calm exterior under any emotion; but he sent me abroad, and I, +not knowing that he had discovered anything, dared not confess. I meant +to come back at a year's end and set all straight in some way. Good God! +set things straight! How we poor devils go through the world knocking +down things like so many ten pins and solacing ourselves with the fancy +that when we finish the game we'll set the pins in place again! We never +get that chance, Dick, take my word for it! Whatever the plan of life +is, it isn't for us to set up the game! We may play fair, if it is in +us, but once we get through, we need not hope for any going back +process. When I returned at the end of two years, I could not find her! +It wasn't love that set me upon the search for her, Dick, I always knew +that; but I think it was the one decent element that has ever kept me +from going to the deepest depths. I got discouraged, finally, and took +our old family lawyer into my confidence." + +"Did you look down here?" Thornly asked slowly. The tale had clutched +him in a nightmarish way that shook his nerves. + +"They don't come back here, my boy, once they tread the path of that +poor child. They simplify morality in Quinton along with all else, and +the one unpardonable sin suffices for them. They grade their society by +their attitude toward that. But old Thorndyke took this place into +consideration as a beginning, for he aided me in my search when he was +convinced of my determination." + +"And you never found her?" Thornly was leaning forward with hands close +clasped before him, his face showing tense in the red glow of the fire. + +"Thorndyke did." + +"Ah!" + +"Yes, the poor little thing had been rescued after a fashion. Soon +after I left her, a fellow who had always had a liking for her, a chap +who had worked in the shop with her, was willing to marry her and she +consented. You wouldn't think she could, quite, with those eyes, but she +did! The man was good to her; but the city, and other things, were too +much, and she lived only a short time. There was a child! I wanted to do +something for it; I had a passion of remorse then, but Thorndyke told me +that the child's best interest lay in my letting her alone. She was +respected and comfortable. For me to interfere would be to throw +dishonor upon the dead mother and a cloud upon the child. All had been +buried and forgotten in the mother's grave. About all I could do to +better the business was to keep my hands off; and that I did!" + +Devant's head drooped upon his chest, and Thornly felt a kind of pity +that stirred a new liking for the man. + +"You think the lawyer told you the true facts?" he asked; "true in every +particular?" + +Devant started up and turned deep eyes upon the questioner. + +"Great heavens! yes. You do not know Thorndyke. He was about as cast +iron an old Puritan as ever survived the times. He was devoted to our +family, and served us to his life's end as counsellor and friend; but +not for the hope of heaven would he have lied! No, that's why I confided +in Thorndyke, I could not have trusted any one else. I knew he would +never respect me afterward; he never did. But he served me as no one +else could, and I bore his contempt with positive gratitude." + +"But you could never forget?" Thornly spoke almost affectionately. The +older man looked up. + +"No. And as I grow older I thank God I never could. We ought not forget +such things as that. We ought to expiate them as long as we live. I have +grown to take a kind of joy in the hurt of the memory, a kind of savage +exaltation in the suffering. So, perhaps, can I wipe out the wrong in +this life and get strength of a better sort for the next trial on +beyond, if there is another trial! I suppose every man wants to show, +and live the best that is in him; not many get the chance here, from +what I see. I reckon that is why we old fellows have an interest in you +younger ones. It goes against the grain, if we have a sneaking regard +for you, to see you quench the divine spark with the same galling water +we've gone through. Going, Dick?" + +For the other had risen and was holding out his hand in a confused but +eager fashion. + +"Yes, Mr. Devant, and thank you! You're not an old man, I sincerely wish +that you might some day, well, you understand--not forget exactly, but +get another trial here!" + +"Too late for that, Dick. Can't you stay over night?" + +"No. I'm going to the Hills. I've some last things to do there." + +"And to-morrow, Dick?" + +"I'm going to Katharine!" The two men looked keenly into each other's +eyes. + +"I'll meet you then at the train, my boy, at 7.50. I've business in the +city. I always put up at the Holcomb; look me up after you've seen +Katharine." + +"Good night, Mr. Devant, and again thank you!" + +Devant walked with Thornly to the outer door, and then to the windswept +piazza. "It's sharp to-night," he said; "I'll soon have to give up Bluff +Head. Davy's Light has got it all its own way to-night, not a star or +moon to rival its beauty. A time back I fancied one evening that the +Light failed me. It was only for a few moments I imagined it, but it +gave me quite a jog. I suppose it was the state of my nerves; one can +rely upon Davy. He's a great philosopher in his way. His lamp is his +duty; his lamp and that poor crippled wife of his who has just died. +Davy is one of the few men I've met, Dick, who seems to have played the +game fair and has never tried to comfort himself with the hope of going +back. 'I'm ready for the next duty,' he said to me the other day with +his old rugged face shining; 'there's always another duty ready at hand, +when you drop one as finished.'" + +The master of Bluff Head watched the straight young figure fade into the +night. Then he turned again to Davy's Light. + +"The weight of a dead duty," he muttered. "That's what anchors a man! It +isn't in the order of things to trust a man with a new duty, when he +failed with the last. There isn't any light to guide a man that's +anchored by a dead duty." + +Then Devant went back into his lonely house and sat down before the +dulling fire to think it out about Thornly. + +"He'll never go to any one but me, after he's seen Katharine," he +thought. "He may not come to me. It all depends upon how deep the thing +has gone, but, in case he needs any one, I'd better be on hand. I may +serve as a buffer, and that's better than not serving at all." + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Janet had conquered the art of crocheting in order that she might +construct a Tam o' Shanter cap. It had been a difficult task, and the +result was far from satisfying. Dropped stitches and uneven rows were in +evidence all over the creation of dark red, with its bushy little knot +on top. But Janet had an eye for the impressionistic touch, and as she +glanced in the mirror of Susan Jane's bureau, the general effect was +gratifying. Under the dull red the splendid, dusky gold of the girl's +hair shone exquisitely. Janet had trained the rebellious locks at last +to an upward tendency and the mass was knotted loosely beneath the +artistic headgear. The eye for color had never been lacking in this girl +of the dunes. Nature had taught her true, but Thornly had, later, +assisted Nature; and no French modiste could more accurately have chosen +the shade of reddish brown to suit the complexion than had Janet +selected, from the village store, her coarse flannel for blouse and +skirt. The skirt was long now, and the heavy shoes were worn +religiously through heat and cold. There was to be no more absolute +freedom for Janet of the Dunes. + +David had come down from his Light, heavy eyed and weary. Mark Tapkins's +absence caused extra duty for David, but the man would ask for no other +helper; it would seem like disloyalty to Mark. Janet took a turn now and +again to relieve David, and that helped considerably. The girl had borne +her share the previous night, but her face showed no trace of the vigil. + +"Sprucin'?" Davy paused. Tired as he was, the girl's beauty caught and +held him. + +"Some. I've set your breakfast out on the table, Davy, and the coffee is +on the stove." + +"Yer gettin' t' be a master hand at cookin', Janet. I don't b'lieve Pa +Tapkins can beat yer coffee. Expectin' Mark back?" There was a double +interest in this question. + +"I haven't heard a word, Davy." + +"Goin' visitin'?" + +"No, Davy; nobody seems to want me to come visiting. The summer's doings +have sort of rent Quinton asunder, and in some way I've managed to fall +in the crack. I don't know what I've done," she smiled a crooked little +smile, and gave the artistic Tam a new angle, "but I'm rather frozen +out. Mrs. Jo G.'s Amelia made a 'face' at me yesterday. I shouldn't have +noticed it, for the creature's hideous anyway, but she called an +explanation after me; 'I've made a snoot at you!' she screamed, and +would have said more, but Maud Grace pulled her in. No, Davy, I'm going +up to Bluff Head." + +"It's empty," Davy said, moving between stove and table clumsily. + +"Eliza Jane's there, and James B. I wonder if they are going to shut the +house for the winter?" asked Janet. + +"Like as not," Davy nodded, and spoke from the depths of his coffee cup. + +Janet bethought her of the cellar window and the old unbroken calm, and +she sighed yearningly. + +"Good bye, Davy." She came behind his chair, and snuggled her soft cap +against his cheek. "I'm going up to have a good reading spell; then +after dinner let us, you and I, if Mark should happen back, go over to +the Station to see Cap'n Billy. Something's the matter with my Cap'n +Daddy. He's keeping off land like an ocean steamer. Davy, he's got a +cargo aboard, take my word for it, that he doesn't want us to know +about. Like as not he's taken to pirate ways and we've got to get +aboard, Davy, sure and certain." + +"By gum!" ejaculated David, "what an eye ye've got fur signals, Janet! +I've been doubtin' Billy's actions fur some time an', if Mark comes +back, I'll jine ye goin' over t' the dunes. What's Mark's call t' the +city?" he asked suddenly. + +"You'll have to ask Mark." The girl was halfway down the garden path as +she answered. "Probably following the city trade." + +"Not much!" muttered Davy, going into the sleeping room; "Mark's got his +stomick full of city once fur all. He hates it worse'n pisen." + +Down the sunlit path went the girl to the oak thicket which lay between +the Light and the road that stretched from the village to Bluff Head. +Not a soul was in sight, and the crisp air and glorious view gave a new +kind of joy to Janet that was distinct from pleasure. She felt that even +if trouble crushed her, she would always be able to know this +satisfaction of the senses. She paused at the entrance of the woods and +looked back. The path was strewn with a carpet of leaves; here and there +a tall poplar stood majestically above its stunted comrades of pines and +scrub oaks, but looked gaunt and bare, while the humbler brothers bore +a beauty of blood-red leaves, or the constant green. Janet smiled, +recalling an old belief of her childhood. She had asked Pa Tapkins once +why the oaks were so very little. Pa Tapkins had his explanation ready. +It had borne part in his boyhood and was a fully confirmed fact in later +life. + +"It all come of the poplars bein' sich liars, Janet. Never trust no +poplar! When things was only sand an' beginnin's in these parts, all the +trees sprung up together. But the poplars, bein' snoopier than common, +shot up considerable an' took a look around. Lordy! what did they see +but the ocean a-roarin' an' makin' as if it was comin' straight over the +dunes! An' the poplars passed the word down t' the little oaks, what was +jest gettin' their bearin's. It scared 'em so it gave 'em a setback from +the fust. But them tall liars wasn't content with statin' truths, day +after day, when the sea lay smilin' like a babby; they handed down a +bigger whopper than what they did when they fust saw the water. 'Nearer! +nearer! it's comin',' that's what they said, mingled 'long with powerful +yarns as to how the monster looked! Naterally the scared oaks didn't +take no interest in shootin' up, when they thought they was so soon t' +be eaten, so they got the habit of crouchin' low an' dependin' on the +poplars fur information. They got a notion, too, of turnin' away from +the sea. Sort o' sot their faces agin it, so t' speak. The pines, every +onct so often, shamed 'em till they blushed deep red,--that comes 'long +'bout spring an' fall,--but no 'mount o' shamin' ever started them int' +springin' up an' seein' fur themselves an' givin' the poplars the lie! +Don't ye place no dependence on a poplar, Janet, they be shivery, +whisperin' critters! They turn pale when there ain't nothin' the matter; +they keep their shade t' themselves, jest plain miserly; an' they pry +too much. 'T ain't proper; 't is 'most human-like." + +Janet recalled the old fancy now, leaning against the tall poplar which, +indeed, was whispering in nervous fashion to the blushing scrub oaks +clustering close. Some one was coming up the road from the station. In +the far distance the girl heard the panting shriek of the engine of the +morning train from the city. Could that shambling, weary figure +approaching be Mark? Why, he looked older than Pa Tapkins! Janet waited +until he was abreast of her. His hands were plunged in his pockets, his +shabby valise slung over his shoulder, and his head was bowed upon his +chest. + +"Mark!" she cried cheerily, "you look just worn out." + +The man raised his dull face and an awakening of interest and hope lit +it. + +"Mornin', Janet," he replied and came to the tree. "Davy managed pretty +good? I was kept longer than any reason. I hope Davy ain't petered out." + +"No. I helped some. Did you get Maud Grace's young man, Mark?" The +amusement in the laughing voice made Mark shiver. All the pleasure +dropped from his face like a mask. + +"I found where he was, all right, but I got there a day too late, he was +off fur--fur--" + +"For where?" + +"There was no findin' out. He's jest clear gone an' vanished." + +"Well, I'm glad of it! I think Maud Grace ought to be ashamed of herself +to want him when he did not want her. I'm out and out thankful she +cannot have her way." + +The effect of this speech upon Mark was stupendous. His jaw dropped and +a slow fire seemed to gleam in his pale eyes. Part of his nature rose in +gladness because the girl could speak in that fashion. She had no +knowledge within her to cause her to falter or stand abashed. But the +tired man, in the poor fellow, cried out to this strong, brave creature +to aid him understandingly where his own knowledge and slowness of +nature made him a coward. And so they stood looking in each other's +eyes. + +"I don't see why, Mark, you should try to help Maud. She's silly and has +acted like an idiot with every man boarder her mother has had. She's +turned her back upon you. This, maybe, will teach her a lesson." + +"Like as not it will!" Mark's words came with almost a groan. "Like as +not it will!" What strength was in him conquered. This girl, so detached +from him, must keep her childish faith. Whatever was to be borne and +suffered, he, in his bungling fashion, must bear it and suffer alone. He +knew the Quintonites, poor fellow! He knew there was work for him to do, +but he would do it alone! + +"Whar you goin', Janet?" Mark took up his burden of duty with a sigh. He +was awake to life and its meaning at last, and the reality steadied him. + +"On an errand." + +"Whar?" + +"That's telling!" The girl laughed mockingly. "And, Mark, as soon as you +can, go up to the Light. I'll soon be back, Davy and I are going on a +pirate hunt this afternoon." + +"A what kind of a hunt?" + +"Pirate. It's going to be great fun. Davy needs a change." + +Mark watched the brilliant figure vanish around the curve of the road. +That any being on earth could be so gladsome puzzled him vaguely. + +"Bluff Head!" he muttered; "well, 't ain't as bad as the Hills, but it's +all bad an' muddlin', an' I don't feel equal t' tacklin' it. The dear +Lord knows I don't. I hate t' have a job what I know from the start I'm +goin' t' botch, but the Lord's got t' take the consequences if He calls +'pon me. 'T warn't any of my doin's, the Lord knows that!" + +Bluff Head was closed, whether for the season or not Janet did not care. +From the region of the barns James B.'s voice came, singing a hymn, but +Eliza Jane had either gone for the day or for altogether. Janet ran +around to the cellar window, keeping the house between her and the +barns. The window still swayed inward to her touch! The long skirts and +new womanhood retarded movement somewhat, but the agile body had not +forgotten its cunning. In a minute or two Janet stood in the vacant +library. She drew in long breaths. Eliza Jane had aired the room well, +but there was a hint of tobacco smoke still. Upon a stand was a vase of +golden rod, yellow and vivid amid the rich coloring. + +"Some people leave a house a great deal lonelier than others," whispered +the girl; "it will never be quite the same." + +Devant's presence, his vital personality seemed near and potent. She and +he had been reading a book together in that early summer time before +guests had appeared to disturb the quiet happiness; she would go back to +the book and begin alone what they had eagerly pursued in company. Janet +went to the bookcase; the book was gone and its neighbors were leaning +over the vacant space endeavoring to conceal its absence. Failing to +find the volume, the girl went to the table and took up, one by one, the +magazines and books which covered it. + +"Ah!" she said suddenly, "I have you!" Under a pile, near Devant's +leather chair, was what she sought, a copy of Bacon's Essays. Devant had +taken a curious interest in leading this untutored girl into all manner +of paths and bypaths. It was a never-failing delight to him to watch her +crude but keen gripping of the best from each. Alone now, and with a +shadow across the path where once companionship and pleasure had borne +part, she took the Essays to the deep window, raised the sash, and +nestled down to what comfort was hers. + +As was ever the case, the subject caught her fancy and in seeking the +pearl she forgot the effort. Presently she was aware of a key grating in +the lock of the hall door. Eliza Jane was, perhaps, returning; or more +likely James B. had an errand inside. Janet raised her eyes. From her +nook she could see distinctly through the hall. The outer door opened, +and in came Mr. Devant. He had apparently walked from the station, and +was unexpected by the caretakers. He had been, without doubt, on the +train with Mark but had taken a longer path from the station, or had +dallied by the way. For a moment Janet feared he might be followed by +the girl she most dreaded or Thornly,--perhaps both. But Devant was +alone. He closed the door after him, hung his coat and hat upon the +rack, and came directly to the library. His keen eyes saw Janet at once. + +"History is never tired of repeating itself!" he cried with a laugh. +Outwardly he was rarely taken off his guard. "The surest way of getting +you here," he went on, "is evidently for me to go away. Don't you like +me any more?" + +He lounged against the heavy table and folded his arms. He was looking +at the lovely face beneath the vivid cap. The first impression of the +girl's beauty was always puzzlingly startling. Devant had noticed that +sensation before; after a moment it grew less confusing. + +"I like you." Janet dropped her eyes, recalling the day upon the Hills. +Devant had met her repeatedly since that morning and had always been +jovial and easy in his manner, but the recollection intruded itself at +every meeting. + +"Perhaps you like me at a distance, but object to my company?" + +"I object to some of them!" A wan smile flitted across the uplifted +face. + +"Well, I am alone now;" Devant nodded cheerfully. "Alone and likely to +be. I'm going to remain all winter, perhaps, Janet; you must teach me +ice boat sailing and let me into all the other debaucheries of the +place." He came near the window and looked out toward the barns. Then he +called: + +"Mr. Smith!" James B. showed his rough, red head at the barn door. + +"Yes!" he called back. + +"I ran down to-day, instead of to-morrow. If Mrs. James B. can come up +this afternoon and get me a dinner, I'll be much obliged." + +"I'm sorry,"--James B. expectorated musingly,--"but she's gone t' get +beach plums." + +"All right," Devant returned cheerfully, "I'll starve then. Saxton won't +be down until to-morrow." + +"That so?" James B. had returned to his work unconcernedly. + +"Why, this is dreadful!" Janet could but smile at Devant's indifferent +face. "I suppose you couldn't cook for yourself even if you were +starving. I wonder if I might do something for you now?" + +"Take no trouble,"--Devant waved her back,--"I took precautions before I +left town, and Mrs. James B. will be over as soon as she hears I'm home. +I'm getting initiated. What are you reading, Janet?" + +"The Essays. I found the place where we left off. They're rather dry, +but I like them." + +"When you do not like a really good thing," Devant said, going to his +easy-chair, "read it until you do. Bring the book here, child! I haven't +read aloud since you and I were alone before." + +Janet arose, and as she did so something dropped at her feet. She +stooped to pick it up, looked a bit surprised and confused, and slipped +it into her blouse. + +"What was that?" Devant asked. + +"My--" Janet paused; "it was my mother's picture! I always carry it in +my waist now. I dropped it." + +"May I see it?" + +"Cap'n Daddy said"--how long ago it seemed--"that I had better not show +it, it seems as though she belonged just to Cap'n Billy and me. But then +you are different. I think Cap'n Billy would not mind if you saw her. +She was so pretty!" Janet came to the table, laid the book upon it, and +then drew--_two_ photographs from her blouse! + +"Why!" she exclaimed, turning pale and stepping back, "why! +I'm--I'm--why, something has happened. Look here!" + +She extended her hands, and in both was the likeness of the dead Past! +Identical they were! Both well preserved and arisen to face this man and +young girl at God's own time! How shrivelled the memory of the grim +error was! How weird and pitiful it arose against the youth and beauty +of the vital creature who with outstretched arms challenged him to +explain the black mystery! + +[Illustration: "'What do you know of my mother?'"] + +"This--is--my--mother! I must have dropped one picture from the book. +What do you know of my mother?" + +It was only a palpitating question, but to Devant it bore the awful +condemnation of outraged girlhood. + +"My God!" he gasped, taking the photographs from her. "My God!" There +could be no mistake. Both had been taken from the same negative! + +Old Thorndyke had lied then! This girl, with her memory-haunting, +elusive beauty, was--he sank back and stared at her. No: it could not +be! Whatever the meaning was, he dared not think that she was his +daughter! If Thorndyke had lied once, he probably had many times. There +may not have been a child; but that would have been a senseless +invention--and Thorndyke was not the man to waste his energies. Perhaps +the first child had died. Perhaps there had never been a marriage such +as Thorndyke had said. That might easily have happened, and then the +mother could have drifted back to the dunes with her pitiful secret +hidden forever. Her marriage with Cap'n Billy, in that case, might have +resulted quite naturally. So dense was the darkness that Devant dared +not move. He was afraid he might bring down upon this innocent girl a +shame that in nowise concerned her. + +"How came you to have a picture of my mother?" Janet's eyes were +gray-black. An answer she would have, and her heart demanded truth. She +saw Devant's panic and it filled her with sensations born upon the +instant. + +"I knew her when she was a girl. A girl like that!" He nodded toward the +photographs as they lay side by side upon the table where Janet had +placed them. + +"Where?" The relentless voice was hard and cold. + +"Here, and later in the city!" + +"Did"--Janet paused and bent forward, her tense face burning and +eager--"did you love her?" Why this question was wrung from her, the +girl could not have told. It was in her heart and would have its way. + +"No." Devant's voice was husky, but he would save the future from the +clutch of the past, if it were in his power to do so. + +"But she loved you!" For the life of him, the man could not face his +accuser. His eyes dropped. + +"I know! I know! You need not tell me. That is the reason she let you +keep her picture!" She swayed. For the first time in her vigorous, +young life Janet felt faint. Devant sprang toward her. + +"Don't, please!" she cried, recovering herself almost at once and +turning toward the door; "I'm going to my Cap'n Billy!" + +"Janet!" He tried to stay her. He had much to say, if only he knew how +to say it. She might be going to--what? An awful danger seemed to yawn +at her innocent feet, but his early sin forbade his interference. + +"I'm going to my Cap'n Billy!" There was no backward glance. Devant +heard the outer door close; then he sank in his chair and bowed his head +upon the two photographs. + +"Where your mother went before you!" he groaned. "Poor little flotsam +and jetsam!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +"There goes Janet like a shot from a gun!" + +"Whar?" Davy and Mark were hauling oil up to the lamp. They stood upon +the little balcony, and had a good view of the girl as she ran like a +wild thing over the stretch of ground between the lighthouse and the +wharf. + +"Ho! Janet!" shouted Davy, leaning over the railing. "What's got ye? +Ain't ye goin' t' wait fur dinner--an' me?" + +Janet paused, and the face she turned up to the balcony moved the hearts +of both men to alarm. + +"I cannot wait!" she called back. "I'm going to Cap'n Daddy!" Then a +thought caused her to add, "Don't either of you come after me! I want +nobody but my Cap'n Billy." + +"Now, what's knocked her endwise?" groaned Davy, staring blankly at +Mark. + +"Like as not she's been gettin' a cargo that she don't fancy, up to +Bluff Head." Mark's face was drawn with pity. "I come down on the train +with Mr. Devant. Maybe he's set her straight 'bout that +Land-lubber-of-the-Hills!" + +Poor Davy, detached by his duties and environments from the common +gossip of his kind, bent a puzzled look upon his companion. + +"Land-lubber-of-the-Hills? What in the name o' Sin be ye talkin' of?" + +"Don't you know what they say 'bout her?" asked Mark, his dull eyes +fixed on the sail of the _Comrade_, as it put off from the dock. + +"No. I ain't never had time, above my duties, to do more'n sleep an' +eat," David replied. "But I've got time now t' stand up fur that girl +yonder, if any consarned gossip takes t' handlin' her name lightly. That +girl's put in my care by Billy, an' Billy an' me have stood by each +other through many a gale. An' now, Mark Tapkins, I'd like t' hear what +ye've got t' say out plain an' unvarnished. I don't want no gibin'. I +only got one way o' hearin' an' talkin'." Mark drew back from the calm, +lowering face of the keeper. + +"Nation!" he gasped, "you don't think I'm agin her, do you, Davy?" + +"I ain't carin' whether ye be or no. Like as not, if she's shook ye, yer +full of resentment. Them is young folks' ways. But fur or agin her, if +ye can harbor scandal about Billy's Janet, ye've got t' share it with +me what knows how t' strangle it fust an' last. Spit it out now!" + +Mark drew himself together with a mighty effort. Recent events were +wearing upon his vitality. + +"They say, Janet is mixed up 'long with a feller what painted her, over +on the Hills!" he spoke as guiltily as though he alone were responsible +for the report. + +"Who says so?" Davy's bushy eyebrows almost hid his kindly eyes. + +"Well, Mrs. Jo G. fur one!" + +"Ye can't knock a woman down. Ain't there some one else that I kin begin +on?" + +"Well, it's kind o' common talk. Floatin' round like eelgrass up the +creek. I s'pose it's sunk int' some kind of bottom of fact, as t' who +started the rumor, but it's jest slippin' around now, on top." + +"'T is, hey? Well, 't ain't the fust time I've clutched eelgrass an' +tore it from its muddy bottom. That gal," Davy pointed a trembling +finger dune-ward, where the _Comrade_ was bobbing over the roughening +water,--"that gal ain't goin' t' be soiled by any slime if I know it. +She b'longs t' Billy an' me, an' by thunder! we can sail her bark fur +her when her little hand grows tired on the tiller!" + +Mark was wiping his eyes. Davy had made him feel himself a blackguard, +but he could not see just where he had erred. Davy, however, took small +heed of Mark. + +"I'm goin' down t' get dinner!" he said suddenly, "an' I ain't goin' t' +foller, 'cause she's goin' t' Billy an' there ain't no call I should +inflict myself on 'em. But I'm goin' visitin' in the village this +afternoon,"--he nodded ominously,--"I'm goin' t' pay up some o' my +funeral calls. I hope I ain't goin' t' cause any more funerals, but it +all depends on how bad the disease is!" + +Mark's inclination was to hold Davy back from his march of devastation, +but he felt his impotence. + +"Onct you put Davy on the scent," he whimpered, as he listened to the +keeper's departing footsteps, "you might as well give up. Davy's a +turrible one fur runnin' down the game. Nation! I hope he won't fall +foul o' Maud Grace an' fling her at her mother!" The cold perspiration +rose to Mark's forehead. "Nation! I wish I hadn't mentioned Mrs. Jo G. I +wish t' gracious I'd laid the hull blamed business t' Pa, fur Pa kin +stand it bein' so soft-like." + +Janet reached the dunes in good time, but the distance had never seemed +so long before. The throbbing, hurt heart outstripped the faithful +little _Comrade_ doing its best before the favoring wind. Every tack +seemed a mile, and a fever rose in the blood of the silent girl at the +tiller. + +She had time to think. She had time to grow old during that passage. One +figure stood out alone from the confused tangle--her mother! Around that +form much centred! She must know all--all, about her mother. + +She must not break upon Billy with her startling news. Billy was so +easily driven into an impenetrable silence! She must draw him out by old +familiar methods and not frighten him into caution. By the time the +_Comrade_ was fastened to the Station wharf, the girl had got herself +well in hand. The men of the crew who were not sleeping were engaged +indoors, a lonely stillness brooded over all. Janet went up to the +government house and looked in at the open door facing the ocean. + +"Where's Cap'n Billy?" she asked. The two men, preparing food at the +table, raised their eyes with no surprise, and Captain Jared Brown +replied: + +"Isterin'." Then with a huge clasp knife he opened a can of tomatoes, +raised it to his lips and drained the contents. Tomatoes were Jared's +only dissipation. + +"Has he been gone all day?" Janet waited until the empty can was set +down. + +"The better part of it." The man wiped his lips with the back of his +hand. + +"Does he have a patrol to-night?" + +"No! no!" Jared began to show an interest. + +"I'm going to surprise him. Don't let on, Jared, if you see him. Who is +in the lookout?" + +"John Thomas." + +Janet went to the stairway. + +"John Thomas!" she called up, "don't let on to Cap'n Billy that I'm +here." + +"I don't report no derelicts!" shouted John from aloft. John Thomas was +an unsmiling humorist and the idol of the undemonstrative crew. He had +seen the girl's approach and was ready with his answer. + +Then Janet went across the sand hill to Billy's little house. Inside all +was as neat and trim as a ship's cabin. Billy ate with the men at the +Station, but the tiny kitchen was ready for Janet whenever she came as, +also, was the orderly bedchamber beyond the living room. Billy kept to +his lean-to, when away from the government house. The rooms were too +stifling for the girl. She could not bear the loneliness that only +empty houses have; she went out and sat upon the sand dune on the ocean +side. It was never lonely in the big open world! Presently small things +caught and held her excited mind. Far out a sail was passing beyond the +bar, and away--where? Then a gull swooped low in wide free circles, and +passed--whither? Closer at hand, the stiff grass, stirred by the wind, +made perfect circles upon the white sand. Deeper and deeper the grass +cut until there were little ditches, and then the sand fell in, and the +patient grass, guided by the unseen power, began again. Janet's unrest +found peace in these small happenings. This was home. Safety and Billy +would soon come and gather her into the strong stillness of love! + +"I told him I was afraid of the city folks; and he laughed!" she +whispered, "but they've caught, or they have nearly caught, Billy's poor +fish!" She flung her head up with an air of defiance. Whatever came, she +must meet it as Billy had taught her to meet the storms of childish +passion. + +Suddenly she became aware of a sound behind her. She turned, and there +was Billy! The surpriser was taken by surprise. + +"My Cap'n!" Janet rushed to him and flung her arms about him. + +"Hold there!" he cried, "I'm all over isters, Janet; isters an' eelgrass +an' water!" + +"Never mind, Cap'n Daddy, you are you! I am never going to leave you. +I've come home!" In her raptures she had shaken Billy's hat off, and now +stooped to pick it up. "I'm going to be an oysterer myself, or some +other man-thing that will help. But, Cap'n Daddy, I'm going to tie up +close to you!" + +Billy was in nowise deceived by this loving outburst. He had kept +guiltily away from the girl with the knowledge he knew he must impart to +her some day. Mark Tapkins had informed him of the artist's departure; +and that, together with Susan Jane's death and funeral, had given Billy, +never before cowardly, a time of grace. But he knew that his girl had +come to him in some trouble. Every expression of the dear face was known +to him, and he was ready to throw out the line of help as soon as the +signal was sure. + +"Janet," he said, "I'll fetch a mess of somethin' from the Station an' +we'll take it together. You lay out the table same as ye use t'. Ye +might happen t' like t' fry up some isters. I've had oncommon luck; an' +ye allus sot considerable store by the first isters." + +"The very thought of them makes me hungry! Hurry, Cap'n Daddy; I want +you right close!" + +Billy was not gone long, and when he returned the two made ready the +evening meal. They tried to be gay, but between the attempts at +merriment each was watching the other. + +The sun went down behind the Hills and Davy's Light sprang to its duty +on the Point. Billy got up stiffly, lighted the little glass lamp and +set it upon the table amid the dishes of food from which neither he nor +Janet had ravenously eaten. + +"We must rid up," said Billy, eyeing the disorder; "once yer done with +food, 'tain't a pleasant sight hangin' around." When this was finished +Janet drew her chair close. + +"Cap'n Daddy!" No longer could the girl hold herself in check. "Cap'n +Daddy, I've got something to tell you!" + +Billy's heart smote him as he looked at the pretty head, bowed now upon +the folded arms. He put out his rough hand and smoothed the ruddy hair. + +"Steady," he murmured, "'tain't no use t' lose heart, Janet. I done +wrong not t' give ye a clearer chart t' sail by, but ye'll get int' +smooth waters agin, please God!" How little he realized her true +trouble! + +Janet tried to still her sobs, but they eased the strain and she sobbed +on, while Billy made the most of the time to take up his neglected task. + +"It was just the kind of shoal yer little bark was like t' steer fur," +he went on, never raising his hand from her dear head, "an' I oughter +have told ye. I allus have thought that most of us would keep off rocks +an' shoals if we knowed they was there. Janet, I've got t' tell ye +somethin' 'bout yer mother! It oughter come to ye from a woman, God +knows, but there ain't no likely woman t' hand, an' I must do my best. +She, yer mother, was powerful 'fraid ye might wreck yerself on the same +kind o' reef what she struck. She wanted ye should be a boy 'long o' +that fear, but she 'lowed if ye were a girl, I was t' tell ye in time if +I saw danger, an', Janet, I ain't done my duty!" Billy's voice was +hoarse from intense feeling. + +"Cap'n Daddy!" Janet's voice shook with sobs. "Don't you blame yourself. +You're the one perfect thing I have in my life. I know it now; I always +knew it, and I never wanted to leave you." + +"Shuttin' yer eyes from danger ain't strength-givin', Janet; keep a +watch out, an' be ready. That's what life means." His voice drew the +girl from the shelter of her arms, she looked steadily at him through +wet lashes. "Janet, yer mother sunk 'long o' lovin' a man--a man--well, +like him--on the Hills!" + +"What!" The girl bent forward and the fire of her passion dried the +tears from the troubled eyes. She would hold her news back. Billy had +the right of way. + +"Yes, yes." Billy let go his grip of the present. He forgot the girl +opposite, and her personal claim upon him. He was back in his own youth, +and in arms to defend the one woman of his love, while of necessity he +must use her against herself. + +"'T ain't no harm in lovin', if love on both sides means right. +Mary--that was her name--Mary was cursed, yes, cursed, with a handsome +face an' a lovin' little heart what she didn't know how t' steer true. +That's what she always stuck t' later, that eddication would have +teached her t' know better. She was the heartsomest gal that ever was +raised in these parts. Her an' Susan Jane was 'bout as friendly as any, +an' I will say fur Susan Jane, that with all her cantankerousness, she +stood by Mary. David an' me never sot our fancy on any one but Susan +Jane an' Mary; an' Davy an' me warn't doomed t' happiness! Least, not in +our own way, though 't was give t' us both t' help when everythin' else +failed. Mary, she went t' the city an' took a place in a store. She had +ambitions t' soar an' be somethin' different. Once or twice she came +home all dressed up t' kill, an' lookin' like jest nothin' but a picter. +An' once I went t' the city jest t' see her. I took special care o' my +get-up, knowing how much Mary sot by such things. I thought I was all +right till I reached the town; then it broke on me like a clap o' +thunder that I was about as out o' place there as a whale in a +fresh-water lake. Mary was real upset 'bout my comin' onexpected an' +lookin' so different to city folks, an' she out an' out told me 't +warn't no use, she was bein' courted by a city man as was rich, an' +goin' t' make a real lady of her." + +Poor Billy's weather-beaten face twitched under the lash of the old +memory which had never lost its power over him. Janet did not take her +eyes from him, nor did she break the spell by a word of hurry or +question. Presently Billy went on. + +"An' then--she came back here! Davy, he brought her across the bay after +dark one evenin'. No one on the mainland knew. When I went on the +midnight patrol she met me--an' told me!" + +"Told you what?" No longer could Janet hold the question back. She knew +Billy's method of going around a dangerous spot, and her womanhood and +daughterhood demanded _all_. + +"'Bout him in the city!" The past misery shook Billy's voice. "He--he +didn't marry her! He went away an' left her! The poor little wrecked +soul came back here, havin' no other harbor in all God's world, an' she +knew she could trust me an' the love I allus had fur her. Her faith +steered her true! She didn't want t' let me take the course I laid out; +she said it wasn't fair t' me. Lord! not fair t' me! She never would +tell me his name. She wanted t' forgit everythin'. It made her shiver t' +talk, even, of the city. She didn't want no help 'long o' him who had +deserted her, an' I never pestered her none. Then I--married her. Davy, +he backed me up, an' he an' Susan Jane went t' Bay End an' saw us +married. Susan Jane kept her visitin' over at the Light till I took her, +calm an' easy-like, t' the parson, an' most folks never guessed the real +truth. An' then we come over here fur a little while, such a little +while! I never seen a more grateful critter than she was. She never +seemed t' take int' 'count the joy 't was fur me to serve her an' chirp +her up. I fixed the little place fur her, an' I took my traps t' the +lean-to so as t' give her plenty o' room, an' by an' by, like it +sometimes happens after a stormy, lowerin' day, the sun bu'st through, +an' toward the close the glory seemed right startlin'. I can see her +face a shinin' now every time I shet my eyes. An' she grew that wise an' +far-seein' that it made me oneasy. 'T warn't nateral, an' she such a +soft little thin'!" Billy passed his rough hand over his dry, hot lips. +"Then you come, an' she slipped her moorin's." + +The two were staring dumbly, sufferingly, at each other. Billy saw the +agony he had awakened and his heart sank within him. After a moment of +silent doubt, Janet arose and stood in front of Billy, laying her cold +hands upon his shoulders. There was no need for her news now! + +"My Cap'n," she whispered, with a fervor Billy had never heard in her +voice before; "my Cap'n, I am a woman, a woman like my mother. Tell me, +as true as heaven, am I your Janet and hers?" Billy's deep eyes pleaded +for mercy, but the woman before him would not relent. There was a +heartrending pause, then: + +"No, ye ain't! God help us, ye ain't! But He's let me love ye like ye +was--an' that's been my reward." + +Janet shut her eyes for a moment and clung to Billy. In that space of +time it was given to her to see a way to redeem the past. When she +opened her eyes, the misery was gone. She was smiling, and there was no +mist between her and Billy. She went beside him and drew his shaggy head +upon her strong breast as a mother might have done; then she bent and +kissed him. + +"Dear, dear Cap'n Daddy! I see it all. My mother was wondrous wise when +she took you for her pilot. Oh! my Daddy--for you are my father. In all +the world there never was such a father! We'll cling close, Daddy, won't +we, dear? Nobody shall ever come between us, promise that, oh, promise +it!" + +"As God hears, never!" Poor Billy broke under the load of love and +gratitude, and bowed his head upon the table. But the girl, her face +glowing with a strange radiance, did not loosen her hold; she bent with +him. + +Had Billy been more worldly-wise, he might have suspected that this +vehemence had root in something beside filial love, but Billy was never +one to question a gift from God. Whenever his simple soul, chastened by +suffering and earnest endeavor, took courage, he always thanked heaven +and returned to his common tasks. When he looked up now, the old calm +had settled upon his face. + +"An' so, Janet," he said, "ye can tell me free an' easy 'bout that +painter-chap over t' the Hills!" The girl started. "I know all 'bout +him," soothed Billy, "an' I don't hold it agin ye that ye let me think +it was a woman painter. Them is young folks' ways, an' ye didn't lie, +Janet, ye jest didn't tell straight out. But Mark an' me, we had our +eyes 'pon ye, an' was lookin' out fur yer interest." Billy paused for +breath. "In yer future dealin' with the painter-man, Janet, jest do +'cordin' to yer new light. I ain't goin' t' worry or fret. Ye allus was +one t' act clear headed if ye had hold o' facts." + +Janet dropped upon Billy's knee and hid her face against his. From such +a shelter she could speak more freely; but oh! how different the +confession was from what it once might have been! + +"It was the first time I ever deceived you, Cap'n Daddy. I hated myself +for it. But, Daddy, he never cared for me--in that way, dear! He cares +only for his beautiful pictures. He used me to help him with them, it +was I who did not know the difference, just at first. Even after I knew, +I wanted to have a share, but, Daddy, dear, women cannot help in that +way, more's the pity--or mercy! I see it all very, very clearly now; +but, dear,"--here a kind of fierceness shook the low voice,--"he is not +like--the one who broke my mother's heart! You and I must remember that. +When I wanted to help him, no matter what any one thought, he would not +let me! He saved me from myself. I understand it now, and I shall bless +him while I live. I--I flung myself at him, Daddy, but he went away +because he was too noble to hurt me!" + +"He did that?" Billy held the girl close and smiled radiantly. + +"Yes, yes; he did that!" + +Billy recalled his and Mark's visit to the hut, and a feeling of shame +stilled all further confession. He, as well as Janet, was beginning to +understand. + +"It seems like the clouds has lifted, Janet, an' I'm thinkin' there'll +never be no more 'twixt us." + +"Never! dear, dear Daddy!" the girl hugged him to her. + +"I ain't been so happy an' care free fur years, Janet. It seems like +we've cleared the decks, not fur action so much as smooth sailin'!" + +"That's it, Daddy, smooth sailing. Just you and I to the very end!" + +"Come, Janet, we must get t' bed. We'll sleep on all this new happiness. +Yer room's ready; 't was her room fust. She said over an' agin that it +was a safe harbor. An' so 't is, Janet, so 't is, an' allus shall be fur +whatever was hers! Good night, child, an' God bless ye! If yer only +fair-minded ye can see that ye don't get any more storms on yer voyage +than is good fur ye." + +That night Janet lay wide-eyed and sleepless upon her mother's bed. Her +fancy wandered far and her young blood coursed hotly through her veins; +but always she came trustfully back to the thought of Billy's patient +love and courage; and it gave her heart to face the future, whatever it +might be. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +The master of Bluff Head had the disconcerting impression borne in upon +him that the getting ready for winter at Quinton had a moral and +spiritual significance, as well as a physical one. He felt a cold +exclusion round about him, as if the good people did not quite know what +to do with him. He belonged to the summer. For him and others of his +world they had braced for action and thawed out to the extent of making +him feel he was not intruding, while occupying his own house. But they +resented his prolonged stay and necessary infringement upon their +well-earned liberty. Not that Devant imposed his presence upon them--he +rigidly observed a decent dignity--and he was more than willing to pay a +high price for any service he required; but James B., while accepting +large wages, fretted under the necessity of holding to a sure thing, +while a vague possibility lay outside. + +James B. had learned, in his secret way, that Captain Billy had been +told, when he went for the physical examination at Bay End in +September, that his heart wasn't up to the requirement. A lesser man +would have been dropped from government duty with such a handicap as +that, but the physician, knowing Billy and his steady life and good +record, passed him for another year. + +James B., like a vulture, had been hoping for a place on the crew for +many a day. The hope gave an excuse for idleness. Eliza Jane knew +Billy's symptoms and was willing to countenance James B.'s indifference +to other business propositions of a steady nature, while that +possibility of the crew was apparent. However, there was no reason why +James B. should not turn a penny in a temporary way at Bluff Head, while +waiting; and that Eliza Jane insisted upon. + +"But," sighed James B. as Mr. Devant stayed on, "if he would only go, +then like as not Eliza Jane would let up on me 'bout laborin' while I'm +waitin'." + +This state of affairs became known to Janet through the tactless remarks +of Mark Tapkins. She went at once to Billy to find out exactly what the +doctor had said. Billy, from the highest moral position, prevaricated +nobly, and left the girl with the impression that the condition of the +suspected heart was really very desirable. + +"It's this way," he explained, "all hearts is tricky, an' once ye know +the tricks, why, there ain't no danger. It's like knowin' the weak +p'ints of a vessel, ye ain't goin' t' strain the weak p'ints, once ye +know 'em, an' like as not the vessel'll last twice as long as a seemin' +sound boat. Don't ye fret, Janet, James B. can loaf a considerable +spell, if it's my goin' he's dependin' 'pon. An' no one more'n James B. +will be thankfuller fur my hangin' on." + +Davy's funeral calls had had a beneficial effect upon the community. +More than one woman said afterward that it looked as if Susan Jane's +mantle had fallen upon Davy's shoulders. + +"He said t' me!"--and Mrs. Jo G.'s catlike eyes glittered,--"he said as +how t' his mind a gossiper was like a jellyfish, sort o' slimy an' +transparent, an' when you went t' clutch it, it stung! I asked him right +out flat footed what he meant, an' he told me t' think it over!" + +More than Mrs. Jo G. thought Davy's words over, and, as a result, turned +their attention to getting ready for the winter. + +The oyster boats dotted the bay. The wood was piled near the kitchen +doors, and the Methodist minister, with a sigh of relief, came down from +the mental pinnacle upon which he had endeavored during the summer to +attract strangers, and preached sermons from his heart to the hearts of +the Quintonites. A donation party was in the air, too, and the needy +pastor grew eloquent along generous, ethical lines. + +Eliza Jane, in a detached and injured manner, continued to cook up at +Bluff Head. The master, feeling that at least he paid for the necessity, +ate in peace; but Saxton, who fell between the aristocracy of Devant's +ideas and the Quintonite ideal, suffered cruelly from his plebeian +position. Only a vague hope of city life and pleasures held him to his +position. And Devant was undecided as to what he should do. Thornly had +not "looked him up" after seeing Katharine. Indeed, that rigid young man +had sailed, within the week, for Point Comfort, and Devant, fearing to +meet Katharine alone, had hurried back to Bluff Head, there to be +confronted by his Past in a most crushing manner. So unlooked for and +appalling was the resurrected ghost, that it had stunned him and left +him unable to act. He feared to make a false move and waited for Janet +to point out the way. But the girl remained upon the dunes with Billy, +and the bay seemed an impassable barrier between them and Bluff Head. + +To go to Billy and demand the sequel to the pitiful story of Mary +Andrews's life was out of the question. Mr. Thorndyke was long since +dead, and had left no papers nor books to help any of his clients in +their affairs. While he lived, he had served them faithfully, according +to his light; but he felt that in dying he cancelled all obligations. +Suppose Mary Andrews had gone to Captain Billy with her secret buried +from sight, who was he that he should deal the faithful man at the +Station a blow that might end his life--surely, his trust and peace? But +Janet! There was the awful doubt. Thorndyke had said there was a child, +had he spoken true? If there were a child, was it that beautiful girl of +the Station? Devant's blood ran hotly, as he thought upon his belief in +heredity. Might it not be himself, instead of the poor mother, who was +accountable for the Pimpernel? + +"Good God!" he muttered; "what would I not do for her? Train that keen +mind, so apt and greedy! Fit her for a high place and, in small measure, +redeem the brutal past! Give her perhaps--to Thornly!" + +This thought stayed him. It might be by that power he would prevail--if +only he were sure! + +He was standing before the mirror, tying his cravat, as these thoughts +ran through his tortured mind. Suddenly his hands dropped at his sides +and he strained his eyes at the reflection that met him. First it was +the color of the eyes that held and amazed him; then an expression at +once familiar and baffling. Was his own face, for the first time in his +life, becoming known to him? Or was the face of that girl of the dunes +crowding all other faces from his vision? Once, when first Janet's +beauty had stirred him, he had noticed her perfect ears set close to her +head. The ears were shell shaped and pink. The left ear, near the lobe, +had a curious inward curve, unlike the right--a fascinating defect that +added to, rather than detracted from, the beauty. It was like a +challenge to attract attention. Devant now observed his own left ear. +There, in coarser fashion, was the same mark! Through familiarity it +had, before, passed unnoticed, now it forced itself upon his +consciousness like a witness for the truth! Slight as these things were, +they turned the strong man weak. He dropped into a chair and rang for +Saxton. + +"Bring me some coffee," he said; "make it yourself, and make it strong." + +"Yes, sir. And if it ain't presuming, I would like to say that there is +more than the coffee what is weak, sir. The cookin' here ain't what +you're used to, sir. The club table, or that at the hotel, is more +nourishing." Saxton had put in his suggestion, and went his way +comforted. + +The coffee braced the shaken nerves, and again Devant went to his mirror +as to a friend. The color of the eyes had changed. Janet's eyes were +never so pale and dull. The complexion was grayish white--the haunting +likeness was gone--but the curious curve of the left ear stood in bold +evidence and called for recognition in the final reckoning. + +"A thousand might have the same!" thought the troubled man; but he had +never noticed it but twice in all his long life! + +After breakfast that day he went for a walk in the scrub oaks. He dared +not go to the lighthouse, but he saw no reason why he should not walk +upon the path leading to it. The damp sodden leaves sent up a pungent +odor as his feet crushed them. A smell of wood smoke was mingled with +the salt air from off sea; it was a perfect late autumn day, with a +warning of winter in its touch. + +Devant walked slowly with bowed head; he was pondering as to what he +should do in the future. His life had never seemed more useless than it +now appeared with the glaring doubt in his mind. Suddenly he was aware +of some one approaching, and he raised his eyes hopefully. It was Janet, +and the breeze, lifting her hair from her face, left the little ear +exposed. It was that upon which the man's gaze rested! + +"Good morning," said the girl, "I was coming to Bluff Head." Janet was +the one more at ease. Her struggle had been along clearer lines. + +"Going up to read?" asked Devant uneasily; "the library is yours, my +child." The last words had a possible significance that was well-nigh +heartbreaking to the man. + +"No: I--I want to say something--to you! I did not seem to be able to +come before." A rare dignity touched the girl. Her womanhood appeared to +have taken on a queenly attribute; but the language of this new +womanhood was still to learn. She had spent the night at the Light, and +the latter part of it she had shared Davy's watch. Together they had +"freshened up" from the little balcony, and the calmness of the stars +and David's philosophy had set their seal upon her. She was brave and +tolerant. She had chosen her path, and with the courage of the dunes +she was ready to tread it wherever it might lead. + +"Shall we walk on?" asked Devant. It was easier than to stand still. So +they slowly turned and went toward Bluff Head. + +"I know,"--the even voice fell to a whisper,--"I have just found out +that--that Cap'n Billy is not my real father!" + +Devant staggered under the blow. The terse directness, a part of the +girl's nature and training, was embarrassing to the man of the world. + +"You are sure of that?" he asked, when he could control his voice. + +"Yes." + +"Do--do you know who your real father is?" + +Janet looked fearlessly up into the haggard, eager face. + +"Yes: I know." + +"Who told you?" + +"Cap'n Billy told me that he is not my father; he does not know who my +father is. My mother was very faithful to you, and to him! He told me +how she came to him--afterward! She did not want Cap'n Billy to save her +his way,--she thought it was not fair to him, but Cap'n Billy had but +one kind of love! He married her, and he took care of her! You don't +know how cruel these people can be to--to girls like my mother, but +Cap'n Billy knew, and he saved her!" The dark eyes were blazing. + +"Be less hard, my child," groaned Devant, turning his face away; "God +knows, I have suffered!" Janet paid small heed to the words, or to the +man beside her. + +"At the last," she went on bravely, "they were happy in a beautiful way +for a little while. Then she died! But I was left, and Cap'n Billy loved +me, and cared for me. He was father, mother, playmate, everything to +me!" The eyes softened, and the girl turned and faced her companion. +"And," she breathed hoarsely, "you and I must keep him from ever knowing +the rest!" + +"The rest?" Devant asked slowly. + +"Yes. About you. I am not doing this only because I love him better than +anything else on earth. I am doing it for my mother! It is all that she +and I can do for him. Will you promise?" + +Devant leaned against a tree. Motion was no longer possible. Janet stood +in the path and waited. The brute instinct arose in the man's heart. +This was his child! In doing for her lay the only expiation possible +for him in the world. What were the claims of that man over on the dunes +compared to his, should he powerfully press them? What if Captain Billy +had given his life to the doing of a duty belonging to another? The +Tempter now took on a virtuous, unselfish guise. Think what the girl's +life might be! Could any true love, even such stupid love as Billy might +bear her, stand in the way? No; Billy would be the first to relinquish +his hold upon her! + +With the calm, steady, waiting eyes upon him, Devant dared not urge his +first claim of parentage. He would appeal to her reason. + +"This is hardly a question for you to put to me," he said. "I must see +Captain Billy and talk to him man to man." + +"What for?" There was a dangerous light in the girl's eyes. "Because you +have suffered for the wrong you did, you think you can ease your +conscience by confessing to Cap'n Billy, and making him suffer again?" +Devant stared at her. + +"You think it is for myself?" he asked. + +"Who then?" + +"Why, for you! Can you not see what it would mean to you?" Janet drew +back. + +"You--you want to do things for me? You who left my mother to die?" A +fine scorn shook the low voice. + +"My God! do not be so hard. Only because you are young and blind can you +speak so heartlessly. Do you not see, it is because I cannot do for her, +that I want now to do for you? I want it with all my soul for her sake, +as well as yours! I wish to undo, as well as I can, the bitter wrong." +Devant moaned. + +"Cap'n Billy did that for you, long ago. Your silence must be his +reward!" Janet's face shone. + +"Can you conceive," asked Devant hoarsely, "what you are giving up?" + +"Yes." Now the shining eyes were misty. "Over on the dunes, after Billy +told me and I had chosen my course, I did think of the other way, just +as I used to imagine things when I was a lonely little girl, impossible +things, you know! I thought of books, and knowledge, and of the great +beautiful world, and all the soft, pretty things that I know I should +love. I did not think or imagine in my fancy that you would want to give +them to me; but now that I know that, it doesn't make any difference. +Every time I think of my Cap'n Billy, nothing else matters!" Two large +tears rolled down the uplifted face. + +Devant felt himself baffled, and anger arose within him. + +"Suppose," he said hoarsely, "suppose I could offer you--Thornly's +love?" + +The stab was cruel, and the wound smarted. Under the soft, brown skin +the color died away, and the eyes widened and deepened. + +"That is no gift of yours!" she whispered proudly; "and I know now what +happens to girls like my mother and me when we--forget!" + +Devant recoiled. Then a shame humbled and stung him. + +"Do not judge him by me!" he said. + +"I do not." The words were hardly above a whisper. "But you know, and he +knows, there is a bar between us, and we must sail wide, if we would not +be wrecked. He would not hurt me, nor let me hurt myself. That is why he +went away!" + +"But," and Devant was himself again, broken, beaten, but himself, "if +Captain Billy should ever leave you--should die, you understand? Will +you not promise to send for me? When you are older, you will judge less +harshly. Will you promise to let me come next to Captain Billy?" He +stretched out his hands, pleadingly. Janet hesitated for a moment, then +she placed her slim, brown hands in his. + +"I do not know. How can I tell? I thank you, but I cannot see any +further than Cap'n Billy! Good bye." + +"Good bye, my child!" Their hands dropped, and they went their ways. + +Janet was not permitted to reach the Light without further trouble. The +day was doomed to be freighted with heavy cares. In the depths of the +scrub oaks she came upon Mark Tapkins, sitting upon a log and looking as +nearly tragic as he, poor, slow fellow, could look. When he heard Janet, +he raised his heavy eyes to her face. + +"I've been waitin' fur you," he said. "I saw you talkin' t' Mr. Devant +as I came cross lots. I've got t' tell you!" + +"Tell me what, Mark?" The girl thought another outburst of love was +coming and it seemed such a shabby, poor little thing, in the gloom of +recent happenings. And yet this roused her pity. It was so much to Mark, +and it was his most sacred offering. She should not despise it. + +"'Bout Maud Grace!" Janet started. So it was not herself after all! + +"What is the matter with her now?" she asked. + +"She's gone!" + +"Gone where?" + +"The nation only knows!" + +"Well, Mark, I never have understood your interest in Maud Grace. You +couldn't act more devoted, if you were her lover, except in that case +you would not have gone on that foolish hunt for her boarder." + +Janet was impatient. She wanted to get away over to the dunes, to peace +and Billy. + +"When Maud gets ready, she'll come home. Doesn't her mother know?" + +"Janet, you've got t' stay an' listen!" + +"Mark, I'm tired. I cannot help any; I want to go home." + +"You've got t' listen!" Mark repeated doggedly; and as the girl took a +step forward, he caught her skirt in his trembling fingers. "First I +took an interest 'cause--'cause I thought I loved you, an' I didn't want +you smirched!" The words were flung out desperately, and they had the +desired effect. Janet started and then stood rigidly intent. + +"Smirched?" she repeated slowly, "what do you mean?" And yet as she +asked the question, light was borne in upon her,--light that had had its +origin in the awakened womanhood. + +"I kind o' guess you know what I mean, Janet; an' I wish t' the Lord I +had let you help frum the start. There ain't another soul as I kin go +t' here until it's too late t' do fur Maud Grace--not a soul but you! +An' God knows, I don't understand how it is I kin hope from you; but I +kin! I jest kin! You won't be hard, fur all you don't love Maud Grace +much. I know true as heaven, you'll be gentle t' her now, when you +wasn't before!" The poor fellow's face was distorted and quivering, but +he had no need to hold Janet. She had come close and was resting her +hand upon his bowed shoulder. + +"Mark!" she whispered, "you mean--you mean?" + +The man nodded dumbly. + +"And, of course, they would all turn upon her! They do not seem to know +any reason for showing mercy. Oh! I do understand." The dark eyes +blazed; then softened under a mist as memory recalled the pitiful story +of that other Quinton girl; and Mrs. Jo G.'s kindness that black night +when she, Janet, was born. But now there was no Cap'n Billy to pilot +this sad little wreck. + +"I don't know what t' do!" moaned Mark, covering his face with his thin, +rough hands. "I can't bear t' think of her driftin' off, Lord knows +where; an' I don't b'lieve she's got a cent, an' even if she walked t' +the city, she can't never git him." + +"No!" Janet was thinking quick and hard. "When did she go?" + +"She went 'fore breakfast, an' she told her little sister t' tell her +mother she'd gone t' you!" + +"To me?" + +"Yes. An' course that was just t' spar fur time." + +"Of course! Well, Mark, we must find her, and then--she may stay with +me!" Janet drew herself up very straight and there was defiance in her +action and expression. "Are any of the boats gone?" + +"Lord knows!" shivered Mark, "but she wouldn't try a boat. She can't +sail fit fur anythin'. She's got the fear so many down here has--fur the +water. Don't you remember?" But the suggestion brought a new agony to +the poor fellow. "Whatever made you think of a boat?" he said. + +Suddenly a further knowledge, born of the new womanhood, almost blinded +Janet. This simple fellow, suffering at her feet, had never loved her! +She had but led him far afield in some strange fashion. He had always +loved the missing, giddy girl; and this awful trouble had driven the +dense fog away forever! In the clear view, Janet's heart arose in +sympathy. + +"You love her, Mark?" she whispered, "oh! I understand." The man looked +at her stupidly, clasping and unclasping his bony fingers. + +"Do I?" he said brokenly; "I thought 't was you! As God hears me, I +thought 't was you! But now this has happened 'long of the--the poor +little thing, it's kinder knocked me down. I allus felt sorry fur her! +You had so much an' she had, what you might say, nothin'. I allus was a +master hand fur wantin' t' help, an' when I saw you driftin' off t' the +Hills, I wanted t' help you, an' I thought I loved you! An' now I want +t' help her. I'm poor shucks, Janet, an' not over keen; but I'm fairly +full of trouble now!" He bowed his head, and the big tears splashed upon +his rough hands. + +In all the past Janet had never so respected him as she did at that +moment. Almost reverently, she touched the bent shoulder. + +"It may not be too late, dear Mark," she comforted; "we'll find her, and +all may be well. The best man I ever knew did what you may have to do, +Mark. Forgive and forget, and let a great love have its way!" + +The poor fellow could not see into the future. The remorseful past and +the pain-filled present engulfed him. + +"She use' t' want me," he groaned out, "'fore the boarders come! She +use' t' come up t' Pa's an' act up real pert an' comical; maybe if she +hadn't, I'd 'a' noticed her more! Ah! if I'd only been content t' see it +then, I might have saved her. I was only up t' Maud Grace's limit, but I +was allus a-thinkin' I was more, an' then when she took t' the boarders +I got mad an', an'--" + +Janet knelt upon the leaves and bent her head upon Mark's knees. Never +in her life before had she so touched him, but she knew now that he and +she were out in the open where no future misunderstanding would darken +their way. He needed her and she needed him; and poor, lost Maud needed +them both. + +"Don't take on, Janet!" Mark touched the bright head, with clumsy, +reverent hand, "'t warn't any fault of yours. I did all I could t' bring +myself up to a p'int that I hoped I could reach you frum--but 't warn't +in me. I was 'bout Maud Grace's limit, as I say, but I didn't want t' +own to it, an' now," he gulped bravely, "'t ain't much of an offerin'! +I'm a poor shote, but if I could, I'd use my wuthless life fur her. It's +'bout all I kin do." + +"And it is the greatest thing on earth, Mark!" Janet smoothed the rough +hand. "Maud will never come to you; you must bring her back and I will +help you both. Go, Mark, go look at the boats! She had no money; she +could not hope to walk far; in desperation she may have tried to get +away by water." + +Mark shook his head, but started obediently. Once he was out of sight, +Janet turned into a side path, and ran like a mad thing to the +lighthouse wharf. The _Comrade_ was gone! And nowhere on the bay was the +white sail visible! Janet raised her eyes and looked at the autumn sky. +The calmness was ruffled near the horizon by ragged little clouds. + +"The wind is changing," she murmured, "the oyster boats are coming in. +There is going to be a wicked storm before nightfall." The bland sky +seemed to give the lie to such reasoning, but the trained senses of the +girl could not be deceived. She trembled as if the coming cold already +touched her; her eyes widened, but her lips closed in a firmer line. + +Away around the cove, she saw Mark putting out on the bay in one of +James Smith's boats. He was reefed close and was making for the inlet, +up Bay End way. He had discovered from afar the absence of the +_Comrade_. + +"If the men see the _Comrade_," Janet thought, "they will think I am +aboard, and no one will worry--but oh! poor, frightened Maud!" + +By two of the afternoon the autumn sky was storm-racked. The wind came +up out of the sea with a fury and an icy chill. The oyster boats +scurried homeward, and, afar, Mark's lonely sail was a mere streak of +white in the dull gray. + +"Nobody must see me!" Janet mused, clutching her hands close. "If they +have seen the _Comrade_, they will think I am safe with Cap'n Daddy by +now. If Maud's on the bay Mark will find her and bring her home!" With +that thought the girl ran to the house. + +Davy met her at the lighthouse door. + +"Ye look like ye'd been blown from kingdom come!" he said; "by gum! this +is a breeze. Had yer dinner?" + +"Dinner? Oh! yes. I had dinner--all I wanted. I didn't mean to be so +late, Davy, I meant to get your dinner!" + +"Yer kinder pale round the gills, Janet." Davy looked keenly at the +drawn face. "Maybe ye eat somethin' that didn't set right on yer +stummick. Better take a spoonful of Cure All, Susan Jane allus thought +considerable of that. I could 'a' sworn I saw the _Comrade_ puttin' off +this mornin'. I thought ye'd taken a flyin' trip to Billy. Seen anythin' +of Mark?" + +"Oh! yes. I nearly forgot, Davy, but Mark may not be here to-night. +He's--he's got business over at Bay End." + +"How did he go?" questioned Davy, "by train?" + +"No! He went in one of James B.'s boats." + +"He's a tarnal idiot t' do that in the face of this gale. He ain't no +shucks of a sailor. John Jones come off frum the Station t'-day, an' he +ain't over careful, bein' what ye might say half fish an' half +dare-devil, but John, he started right back when he left an order fur +me. Mark ought t' have knowed better. Janet, what is the matter with ye? +Here hold on, gal, till I get that Cure All!" + +Janet held on, and smiled feebly as Davy poured the burning liquid down +her throat. + +"Thanks!" she whispered presently. "I was mistaken, I did not eat any +dinner. Davy, I am hungry. I always need my food, Davy; you know how I +am." She was laughing nervously. + +"Come on, then!" commanded Davy, eyeing her critically; "I ain't never +seen ye so done up by goin' without one meal before. I believe yer +threatened with 'spepsy, it comes now an' then, with that imptiness in +the pit of yer stummick." + +That night Janet tried to sleep in her little room, but the fury of the +storm, and her heavy, anxious secret forbade an instant's rest. At last, +about midnight, she dressed and went up to Davy. He was standing near +the entrance of the lamp, and his tired face was drawn and pitiful. + +"By gum!" he ejaculated when he saw the girl. "This wind comes straight +frum Greenland's icy mountains, an' ain't losin' any of its temper as it +comes. The waves could be seen over the dunes, long 'fore sundown; an' +jest hear that." + +"What is it, Davy?" Janet pressed beside him. "It sounds like some one +knocking on the glass." + +"An' so 't is, so 't is! Least it's birds. Poor, dumb things, blown on +land an' makin' fur the Light. Bein' seafarers, like as not, they know +the Light is t' guide 'em, an' they come t' what they think is safety. +Poor, poor things! They beat the glass as if askin' fur mercy, an' +shelter, an' here I be a-listenin' t' them knockin' themselves t' death +an' unable t' help. If the good God takes heed of the sparrows what +falls, He ain't goin' t' overlook the gulls; but 't ain't much comfort +to think on that, when He lets 'em die, die right agin the Light. Gum! +we ain't had anythin' like this since Tom Davis was caught in his skimmy +over by the dunes twenty-five years back; least we haven't had anythin' +like it as bad so early in the Fall." + +"Come down, Davy," pleaded Janet, "don't stand and hear the poor birds +beat themselves to death. To-morrow they will lie thick in the garden. +Oh! it is a fearful gale! And Tom Davis was so near the dunes that +night, wasn't he, Davy? When his boat went over, he could have waded +ashore, only he did not know where he was--and the fog hid the Light; +but every one knows about Tom Davis, and if a boat did go over, a--a +person would try to wade ashore. Don't you think so, Davy, remembering, +as he would, Tom Davis?" + +"Ye got Mark on yer mind, eh?" Davy came down to the little sitting room +and turned up the lamp wick. "Well, ye bet Mark put in somewhere 'fore +this gale struck him. Tom Davis was different, he didn't take no +precautions, ever. He was in his ilers an' boots when he went over, an' +he wasn't reefed none. He wanted t' get here quick with a fair wind--if +such a foul gale could be called fair. He wanted t' take part in a show +down t' the church. But his time had come; an' the curtain went down on +him out there alone in his water-sogged boots an' heavy iler coat! Tom +Davis was born fur misfortin as the sparks fly up'ard. Him, with them +boots an' ilers on, in a gale sich as that war!" + +"Davy, what was that?" Janet clung to the keeper, her eyes dark and +fear-filled. + +"It sounded 'most like a human call, now didn't it?" said Davy, raising +his head; "it's a gull, that's what it is, Janet. A more knowin' gull +than the rest!" + +"Are you sure, Davy? It could not be--anybody calling, could it?" + +"Gosh! no, no. What do ye suppose any one would be callin' fur?" + +"Why, if he were in danger." + +"'T ain't anybody on the bay, Janet. City folks is gone, an' the +Quintonites ain't chancin' a pleasure trip in this gale. Get downstairs, +Janet; it's just possible some one's knockin' an' callin' below." + +Janet waited for no second bidding. Down the iron stairs she ran, and +never paused until she reached the lower door. This she opened +cautiously, and braced herself against it to keep out further entrance +of the terrific wind. + +"Any one there?" she shouted. The noise of the storm alone replied. + +"Any one outside?" Again she called. A soft something fell at her feet +with a dull thud. It was a gull, broken winged, its life beaten out +against the glass of the Light! Once again she shouted, "Any one there?" + +On the wind came that strange, weird call that had frightened her in the +tower. It rose and fell piteously, and passed on with the blast. + +"I never heard that before to-night!" Janet murmured, as she forced the +door shut; "it is new and awful!" + +She went into the living room and lighted the fire. She would not try to +sleep again. She made some coffee and carried it up to Davy; she dared +not stay alone. For the first time in her life she was afraid and +thoroughly unnerved. + +That morning, before Davy had come from the lamp, there was a knocking +on the outer door, and a pushing as well. Janet, coming down the stairs +with the empty tray, saw the door open, and in the light of the gray, +still morn, for the storm was past, she recognized Mark in a yellow +oiler with a sou'wester nearly hiding his wet and ashen face. + +"You found her?" The words broke from Janet like a sob. + +"Not yet." Mark's voice was slow and weak. "We want Davy t' come an' +help, soon as he can. An' can you let me have a cup o' coffee, Janet? +I'm most done up. The--the _Comrade_ is bottom up round by the P'int an' +I--I guess she was bein' beaten toward home; but--but--" + +Janet dropped the tray and ran to Mark; she drew him into the room and +pushed him toward a chair. + +"Sit down!" she said brokenly. "Sit down, you look as if you would drop. +See, I have the coffee all ready; it will take but a minute." She +hurried the preparation, and after she saw Mark gulp the strong, hot +drink, she asked quietly, but with awe in her voice, "Can you tell me +now, Mark?" + +"There ain't much t' tell. When a boat's bottom up in such a gale as was +a-blowin' last night, an' only a poor, little frightened gal was at the +tiller, why--why there ain't, what you might say, anythin' t' tell." + +Mark stared dully before him. He was tired and soul-weary. "She's got +away fast enough this time, Janet," he went on drearily; "'t ain't +likely any one will be troubled settlin' things fur her now." + +"Don't! don't! Mark." Janet was crouching by his chair, her tear-filled +eyes looking wildly at his dull, vacant face. "We, you and I, were +trying, you know!" + +"Yes; but it was uphill work, an' would have been wuss, like as not. +'T ain't easy settin' straight a botch like that. I guess this is the best +way. Don't take on, Janet! Seems like she allus got the rough part, but +you couldn't help that none. I guess you'd been the quickest one t' help +her if she'd cried out t' you; but even you couldn't have helped much." + +Janet heard again in fancy the weird call of the night. + +"No; I could--not--help!" She shuddered. "Where are you going, Mark?" + +"Back t' the bay. They're draggin' round by the P'int. Her father's +there, an' some others. I found the _Comrade_ 'fore daybreak an' got +them up. If Davy can lend a hand, later, tell him t' come along; he was +the one what found Tom Davis, they say. Davy seems to have a sense 'bout +where t' look." + +With his heavy oilskin coat hanging loose, and his head bowed, Mark went +back to do all that could be done for poor Maud Grace. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Bluff Head was closed. The master had left word with Eliza Jane Smith +that after his departure the house key should be delivered to Janet with +a note of explanation. + +The note reminded her that next to Captain Billy, he was the one upon +whom she must call in case of need, and he left the library in her +keeping with a list of books for study and recreation. + +Snow was on everything, even on the new little grave in the desolate +churchyard where poor Maud Grace and her pitiful secret slept. They had +found the child late in the morning of that awful day succeeding the +storm. In the small clinched left hand was a bit of water-soaked paper. +No one but Mark had taken heed of it, but he guessed that it was the +card which was to guide the girl to the man who had deserted her. +Perhaps in that last hour of struggle and fear, she had taken it from +its hiding place for comfort or, perhaps, to destroy it when hope was +past. But it gave no clue. It was merely a wet pulp in a thin little +rigid hand! + +Mrs. Jo G. took her grief stolidly. It was not in her to cry out or +moan, but she felt her loss and sought to explain the strange ending to +the young life. + +"'T was this way," she said to Eliza Jane Smith, "the boarders, an' all +the life of the summer, had onsettled Maud Grace considerable. She +wanted company all the time. She sort o' turned t' Janet, an', like as +not, that mornin' she went t' the Light t' see her. Not findin' her, an' +seein' the _Comrade_ at the dock an' John Jones's boat puttin' back t' +the Station, like Davy said he had done, Maud Grace just fixed it in her +mind that Janet was with John Jones, an' so she took the _Comrade_ an' +went after them. Then when the wind came up, she lost her head, an' +so--" Mrs. Jo G. at this juncture hid her face in her checked apron and +silently rocked back and forth. She could not think of the night and +storm, the lonely, frightened girl dashed hither and yon in the little +boat, without breaking down. Life near the dunes was stern and the +people had learned to accept calmly the storm and danger, but, just at +first, it was always hard. + +Mark Tapkins divided his time between his home and the Light, but no +longer did he raise his eyes to Janet. Mark had got his bearings at +last, and was steering his lonely way through sullen and bitter waters. +Trouble had set a strange dignity upon him. + +Davy, seeing others downcast, rose to tuneful heights. Not only the +landings, but the house, the long flight of steps, and the windswept +balcony and shining Light knew his cheerful songs. + +"Singin' 's a might clarifyin' exercise," he said to Janet; "it opens +the body an' soul, so t' speak, an' lets more'n the tune an' words out. +The angels sing in glory, an' I mind how 't is said the mornin' stars +sang together. So long as I've got a voice, I'm goin' t' sing, an' drown +the sound of worse things." So Davy sang and guided many a sad thought +into safer channels. + +Over at the Station the crew patiently went through their routine. The +short dark days passed with the monotony that was second nature to the +brave fellows. Perhaps their greatest courage was displayed in their +homely, detached lives. They cooked; they slept; they drilled and +patrolled the beach. They talked little to each other; but they were +ready for near and far-off duty, should a signal be displayed. Small +wages repaid them for their faithful endurance; they were not permitted +to add to their income by other labor, and they knew that when age or +weakness overtook them the government they served as faithfully as any +soldier could, would discard them for younger or stronger men. +Nevertheless they bore their part uncomplainingly through deadly +loneliness or tragic danger. + +"It looks like it was goin' t' be a hard winter, settin' in so early an' +so persistent," said Billy one day. Billy took more heed of the weather +than did the others. The patrols tired him more now than they ever had +before. + +"Like as not!" agreed Jared Brown; "I saw a skim of porridge ice, this +side the bar, as I turned in this mornin'." + +Billy nodded. + +"Janet comin' on this winter?" + +"No, she's mostly goin' t' stay off. Davy needs her more'n I do, an' 't +ain't no fit place over here for jest one woman." + +"'T ain't that!" The smoke rose high between the men. + +"Heard how Mark Tapkins seems t' feel Jo G.'s gal's death?" + +"Yes! yes!" + +"I thought once 't was your Janet." + +"Well, 't warn't." Billy felt justified in this denial, though at one +time he had thought so himself. + +"There don't seem t' be any one likely fur Janet hereabouts. A little +larnin' spiles a gal, Billy." + +"Is them yer sentimints?" + +"They be." + +"Well, folks differ. Janet pleases me." + +"Yes, but ye can't 'spect to handle Janet's craft forever. She's got t' +rely 'pon her own sailin' some day." + +"Like as not, but when that time comes, Janet'll take the tiller without +any fuss. That's the way she's built." + +"Like as not." + +Over on the mainland, James B. was comfortably happy. With the closing +of Bluff Head, his unmistakable duty ended. He could take no other job +while waiting for Billy's delayed surrender, and he could loaf at the +village store or sleep behind his own kitchen stove in virtuous comfort. +He was at peace with the world and had no desire to see Billy resign +from the crew in his favor. + +Social functions grew apace as winter clutched the coast in real +earnest. The donation party was a brilliant success--from the +congregation's point of view. They had a good time and made deep inroads +into the provisions they had brought, leaving the cleaning up for the +minister's wife. Christmas festivities lightened the time, too, and for +a space made the hard-working men and women as gay as little children. +Several travelling entertainments later had shown a fraternal spirit and +"stopped over" at Quinton. They were always generously patronized and +left a ripple of excitement behind them. One inspired some of the young +people of the place to start a dramatic society. It began with an energy +that threatened to swamp all other social and religious functions. After +many rehearsals a play was announced, and the entire population turned +out in force. The play was given in Deacon Thomas's parlor, because that +had a rear room opening into it that could be used as a stage, but one +scenic touch in the stage property doomed the aspiring artists to defeat +and the society to annihilation. + +A donkey was required in the play. No one had genius nor ambition enough +to create an entire one, but a very realistic head was constructed, and +this, fastened to a broomstick and thrust forward at the psychological +moment, produced a startling and thrilling effect. The audience was +stirred to its depth. Most of the young people were either on the stage +or behind the curtain; but the few who were in the audience broke into +cheers, which were quickly quelled by Deacon Thomas, whose son John had +led the applause. He bent forward and gripped Deacon Farley by the +shoulder. + +"Silas!" he said, "I don't see anythin' sinful in the speakin' part, but +that animal is too much like a theayter!" + +That was the battle cry of defeat. The "theayter," to Quinton, was as +pernicious as a bullfight would have been to a Puritan. + +Janet, who was accountable for the donkey head, felt a real +disappointment in the downfall of the dramatic society. It had appealed +to her artistic, imaginative nature. In it she saw a glimmer of +enjoyment which all the other village pastimes lacked. She loved +dancing, but, without knowing why, she disliked to dance with the young +men of the place. With the yearning of youth for popularity and +companionship she felt the growing conviction that she was outside the +inner circle. Davy had closed the lips of idle gossipers, but even he +was unable to open the hearts of suspicious neighbors. The girl longed +to draw to herself human love and loyalty, but her every attempt +failed. + +"Davy," she said with a deep sigh, "I reckon I'm just a bungler. +Everything I do seems wrong. I'm afraid,"--and here she grew +dreamy,--"I'm afraid I'm like the poor poplars. I see over the dunes. I +see too much, and I frighten others." + +"'T ain't overwise, Janet," mused Davy through the tobacco smoke, "to +get t' thinkin' what ye are an' what ye ain't. Let other folks do that. +Jest be somethin'." + +"Yes, yes, Davy, but what? Everything I try to be, I fail in." Janet +thought of the chance that lay in the distant city and wondered if she +would have failed there. + +"Well, I allus take it," Davy replied, "that the good God gives us jest +as much t' do as we're able t' do, an' He wants it well done. He ain't +goin' t' chuck jobs around t' folks that ain't equal t' doin' well what +they has in hand. Fur instance," Davy pointed his remark with the stem +of his pipe, "ye ain't such an all-fired good housekeeper as ye might +be!" + +"I know it, Davy." + +"An' yer clo'es, while they become ye like as not, have a loose look in +the sewin' that might be bettered. The fact is, Janet, ye ain't +pertikiler 'bout the fussin' things! An' it may be, yer way lies in +perfectin' yerself in the fussin's of life." + +"Oh! you dear Davy!" Janet was laughing above her inclination to cry. "I +do believe you are right. I'm going to pay particular attention to the +little fussy things. Dear knows! if I do them all well, I'll have little +time for discontent." She stood up--she and Davy were in the living +room, while Mark was doing duty aloft--and flung her strong, young arms +above her head. + +"Davy, I wish just once in my life I could--let myself go! I don't care +much how, but just go! I'd like to take a ship out to sea, not the bay +but the open, middle ocean, and go just where I pleased." + +"Ye'd get wrecked fust thing!" broke in Davy. + +"But I'd be doing something big until I got wrecked. Or I'd like to be +alone on a great desert where I could shout and dance and sing, and no +one would be there to call me mad." + +"But ye'd be mad, jest the same." Davy was watching the flashing face +uneasily. The gossip that had drifted to him had but strengthened his +love and care for Billy's girl. He was a hardy support now, protecting +this free nature from outer harm and inward hurt. + +"No, no, Janet! Don't hanker arter the ocean nor the desert till ye know +how t' handle yerself. Oceans an' deserts ain't no jokes fur +greenhorns. I heard Mark say the bay was froze over. That don't happen +often, so early as this." + +"I'm going to get my ice boat out to-morrow, Davy. Life on an ice boat +is life! A sailboat is not bad with a good wind, but you always have to +take the _water_ into your reckoning then. But the ice--ah! There is +nothing there but you and the wind to consider!" + +"An' holes!" Davy added. + +"You're just an old pessimist, Davy." Janet laughed. + +"Like as not!" Davy agreed. He hadn't an idea what a pessimist was, but +he never wasted time inquiring as to the labels others attached to him. + + * * * * * + +That night, winter, in its grimmest sense, settled upon Quinton. The bay +became a glistening roadway between the mainland and the dunes. Children +on skates or in ice boats filled the short, cold days with laughter and +fun. Sleighing parties flashed hither and yonder with never a fear of a +crack or hole; and beyond the dunes the life crew kept a keener watch +upon the outer bar. Chunky ice formed near shore, and the tides bore it +inward and left it high upon the beach. Day by day it grew in height +like a shining, curving line of alabaster, showing where the high-water +mark had been. And upon a certain threatening day, John Thomas came off +and stopped at the Light to have a word with Davy. + +"He didn't want me t' say anythin' t' ye, but it don't settle on my mind +as jest right not t'. Billy's had a spell!" + +Davy pulled up his trousers; with him a sure sign of deep emotion. + +"What kind?" he asked. + +"Sort o' peterin' out. He was peelin' taters in the Station, when all of +a suddint he sot down kinder forcible on a chair, dropped the knife an' +tater, an' looked at me as if I'd done somethin' t' him. I ran crost t' +him an' stood by, so t' speak. Then he kinder laughed an' said, distant +an' thick, 'That was comical! I felt like my works had run down!' Billy +ain't what he once was." + +Davy set his lips in a grim line. + +"He ought t' have a lighter job!" he muttered. "How is he now?" + +"Oh! he's come round. But spells is spells an' yer got t' look out. +Don't tell Janet; Billy was sot agin that, somethin' fierce." + +"I don't know as Billy should want t' shield her more'n common sense +p'ints. I feel she ought t' know. 'T ain't pleasant t' get a knock in +the back of yer head; an' that's what Janet's goin' t' get some day +about Billy." + +"He says she knows enough; an' he ain't goin' t' have her pestered." + +"Well, t'-morrer I'm goin' on," nodded Davy, "an' Billy ain't goin' t' +honey fugle me none. Arter I cast my eye on him, I'm goin' t' give +myself orders. Sighted anythin' lately?" + +"A schooner got mighty near the bar 'long 'bout sundown last night. +Kinder skittish actin' hussy she was, but she turned out an' cleared off +without much trouble. We was all ready fur her." + +"Big sea, too!" + +"Powerful! An' I tole Cap'n that I've got kind o' superstitious 'bout +them boats as make a near call an' then sidle off. Twict durin' my time +a real thing has happened soon after. Seems like they come t' see if yer +watchin'; kinder gettin' yer attention, so t' speak, an' warnin' ye that +ye ain't there fur fun. I'm goin' on 'bout three this afternoon. Sky +looks nasty." + +"It does that!" agreed Davy, "an' it's my turn up aloft t'-night. I +somehow feel more certain when I'm there myself in foul weather. Mark +ain't never done anythin' t' cause me t' distrust him, but Lord! he's +got that unfortnit air of makin' ye distrust yerself about him." + +"Mark lacks salt!" John laughed good-naturedly. "If he an' Pa had a dash +o' seasonin' in 'em, they'd be all right; they're flat, that's all." + +"Like as not!" Davy said; "but flats ain't the best kind o' things t' +run on, in a storm." + +So Davy held his peace regarding Billy's spell, until he could have a +look at Billy himself; and all that cold, dreary day Janet worked at the +small fussy things of her daily life, keeping her hands busy but having +time and to spare for her active brain to wander far. She lived over +again the summer, the wonderful summer. She felt the yearning for books +and the quiet of the Bluff Head library. She recalled Devant with a +sense of hurt and pity; but Thornly came to her memory with a radiance +that grew with absence and, perhaps, forgetfulness on his part. + +With the proud young womanhood that remained with the girl like a royal +birthright, the knowledge of all that Thornly's renunciation of her help +in his art meant brought the warm blood to her cheek and a prayer of +gratitude to her lips. She could afford to live and work apart; she +could be glad in worshipping her ideal of all that was brave and manly, +even though she knelt forever before an empty shrine. + +Billy and Davy loomed upon her near horizon in added splendor. Ah! she +had known such good men! She was very blest. And so she sang as she +worked. + +About noon of the winter's day, James B. slouched down to the Light and +entered the living room where Janet sat darning Davy's coarse gray +socks. + +"Has John Thomas gone on yet?" he asked. + +"No," said Janet, "his boat is at the dock." + +"I'm thinkin' of goin' on with him. Looks like a rough enough storm was +comin' up, an' if anythin' should happen an' extry hand or two, over at +the Station, wouldn't come amiss. Eliza Jane's been havin' feelin's in +her bones that I better be over there." + +Janet's eyes flashed, but the drooping lids hid them. She could not tell +why, but every time James B. went over to the Station she resented it. +It seemed as if he were keeping an eye on Cap'n Billy, and it aroused +her dislike and suspicion. + +"Eliza Jane's bones must be troublesome for the rest of the family," she +said. + +"They be!" nodded James. "I told Eliza Jane t'-day, that t' be rooted +out in the teeth of the kind of storm this one is like t' be, jest fur +feelin's in her bones, warn't exactly fair t' me." + +"Why do you go?" The girl raised her great eyes and looked full at him. + +His furtive glance fell. + +"'Cause Eliza Jane said t'!" he answered doggedly. "She was down t' Miss +Thomas's an' when she knew John Thomas was off, she sot her mind on my +goin' on with him. I kind o' hoped he was gone." + +"Well, he isn't. There he goes now down to the dock. It's queer he +doesn't stop and speak a minute." + +James B. slouched toward the door. "Any message fur Cap'n Billy?" he +said. + +"Just my love, and tell him I'm coming on to-morrow or next day. Shut +the door, James, the wind comes in as if it were solid." + +She watched the two men make ready the little ice boat, she saw them get +aboard, and almost on the instant the steadily increasing wind caught +the toy-like thing and bore it with amazing speed past the Point and +over toward the dunes! + +Then an anxiety grew in her heart. Of late she had been subject mentally +to sensations that in a measure were similar to those that affected +Eliza Jane's bones. She was depressed or elated without seeming cause. +It annoyed and shamed her, but she could not control it. John Thomas's +return to the Station without a word to her, his visit to his mother and +Eliza Jane's prompt despatch of James B. to the dunes, grew to ominous +proportions, as the lonely girl dwelt upon them. + +"I wonder if my Cap'n Daddy is all right?" she thought wistfully. She +was merely carrying out Billy's desire in remaining so much upon the +mainland; her own inclination was for the desolate little cottage near +the Station, and the loving companionship of Billy. + +"I don't care what he says," she whispered to herself, "I'm going to go +on and stay with him part of the time! I need him even if he doesn't +need me." She wiped her tears upon the rough gray sock that covered her +hand. "I'm just like Mark. Because I cannot do what I'm fit to do, I'm +failing in everything. There is no use! I must go to Cap'n Billy, and +learn to be happy with him and--nothing else!" + +The determination to go to the dunes brought a sense of comfort with it, +but a nervousness grew apace. It was as if, now that she had decided to +go, she was in a hurry to start. She was conscious of a trembling +eagerness in every act. She put her mending away; she prepared the +noonday meal with vigor and intensity, selecting what she knew Davy most +liked. + +"This is a feast!" gloated Davy, looking around his humble board and +sniffing appreciatively the steaming favorites. "Looks like ye'd caught +on, Janet." + +"So I have, Davy, I've gripped for sure and certain." + +"Didn't tell ye, did I, that Mark is goin'?" + +"Going where?" Janet laid down her knife and fork, and looked +interested. + +"Him an' Pa is goin' t' build, 'twixt here an' the Hills, an' open a +inn. They plan t' move the old house down, an' jine it on." + +"An inn?" Janet laughed. + +"Them was his words. A inn! Sometimes it seems like Mark was walkin' o' +a dark night on cold, wet sand. He slaps down his foot, sort o' +careless, an' strikes phosphorus. He ain't got, what ye might call, +seein' qualities, but he strikes out light! That's the way it was with +him tellin' Pa 'bout sellin' crullers. The old man made a small fortin. +An' now this inn will pan out, you jest mark my words. It stands t' +reason folks would rather go to a inn than to a boardin' house!" Davy +grinned at Janet over a cup of tea green enough and strong enough to +curl any ordinary tongue. + +"Pa's goin' t' cook, an' Mark's goin' t' run the business," added Davy. + +"Well, they'll have good cooking." Janet smiled as she thought of the +scheme. "Maybe they'll let me wait upon table." + +"Like as not they will if ye want t'. Well, 't ain't any more than fair, +ye consarned little trap, but that ye should do yer turn at waitin' on +Mark. Sho! just hear that gale, will ye! It's steered round an' is +comin' straight off sea. By gum! If any craft drifts on t' the bar +t'-night there's goin' t' be spry dancin' at the Station." Davy went to +the window, and peered out. The early afternoon was bitterly cold, and +darkened by wind-driven clouds, full of storm and fury. + +"They've got an extra hand, such as it is." Janet came and stood close +by Davy. + +"Who?" he asked. + +"James B. He went on with John Thomas." + +"Did, did he? Well, by gum! Janet, I wish to thunder I could get Billy +to give up the Life Crew an' take Mark's place here!" + +"Why, Davy?" There was intensity and pathos in the question, and trouble +in the gentle eyes. + +"'Cause!" vouchsafed Davy, "jest 'cause. That's why. Fetch me a bite in +the lamp, Janet, 'long 'bout sundown. I ain't comin' down, once I go up +this afternoon. I ain't lookin' fur trouble. 'T ain't my way, but +somehow, when such a night as this is like t' be settles down, it don't +seem anythin' more'n friendly fur me t' bear the Light company." + +So Janet cleared the dinner away; she found little tasks to fill the +darkening hours, and with eagerness prepared the tray for Davy and took +it aloft at sundown. By that time the wind was almost a hurricane; and +before it were driven sharp sheets of snow that cut and sounded as they +sped madly landward. The tower swayed perceptibly. Davy's face was +grimly careworn, and his manner forbade sociability. + +Janet waited a few moments; then, realizing Davy's mood, left the tray +and went below. But now a trembling and inward terror possessed her. She +tried to shake off the feeling with contempt for her folly. She sang, +remembering Davy's philosophy, "When ye sing ye open the safety valve +fur more to get out than words an' music." But this song gave relief +only to sound and mental action. + +Early night came with eagerness, as if, for the doing of what was to be +done, the black pall was alone appropriate. + +"Why, any one would think,"--Janet stood by the window and her teeth +chattered as she spoke,--"any one would think I was that white girl at +Bluff Head instead of Cap'n Billy's girl. I afraid of a storm! I, housed +and safe at the Light! I, who, in many such a gale, trotted after Cap'n +Billy just for pure fun. It's time I went on and got the dune tonic for +my foolish nerves. _Me_ with nerves!" + +Then she ran to the door and opened it slowly, pushing against it to +stay the wind. + +"I thought!" she moaned, "I thought I heard a call!" The memory of the +night that poor Maud Grace went down beyond the Point added keenness to +her fancy. "It sounded like that call. Ah! as long as I live I shall +remember it. I do believe it was Maud. I always shall, no matter what +they say." + +The howling of the wind drowned the girl's words, but her strained face +pressed against the opening and her senses were alert. "I hear it!" she +panted, "I hear that call! Suppose, oh! suppose that it is my Cap'n +Billy calling? If he were on the patrol and in danger, he would call to +me. He would know I could not hear, but he would call, just for +comfort!" + +Again the burdened wind shrieked outside. The face at the door grew +ghastly and the eyes terror-filled. + +"There are more ways of hearing than one!" she muttered. "Cap'n Daddy, I +am coming!" + +Who was there to stay her with word of caution? Who was there to control +her as she made ready to answer the heart-call of her beloved Billy? + +Now that doubt had fled, a calmness possessed her. She was indifferent. +First she wrote a note to Davy and placed it, open and conspicuous, +beside his plate; she had laid the breakfast table half an hour before. + +"I've gone to Billy. Took my ice boat." That was all, but Davy would +understand. Then she wrapped herself warmly, covering all with an oiler +and pulling a sou'wester well down over her ears. Finally she +extinguished the lamp, let herself out of the door, and ran, in the face +of the gale, to the dock. There she paused. + +"I'd have to tack miles off my course," she muttered, "I had forgotten +the direction of the wind." There was nothing to do but take to the ice, +and walk and run as she could! It was an awful undertaking, but the girl +did not pause. The call for help came only when she hesitated; while +she acted her nerves were calm. So, with head bent forward and low, +Janet set out for the dunes. + +Once she looked back at Davy's Light. Through the scurrying snow and +sleet it shone steadily and hopefully, unaffected by the wind and fury +that waged war outside. + +"It is like a thought of God!" she whispered, and her courage rose. + +Only a dune-bred girl could have withstood the force of the storm, but +by pausing for breath now and again, by sliding and gaining strength +walking backward, she made fair progress, and, guided by the Light, +headed for the halfway house. In that she would wait and hide. If it +were Billy's patrol, she would be there to see him! If not? Well, time +enough for future plans! She knew Billy would disapprove her action, but +she must know! + +Once the dunes were gained, their landward side was sheltered. Janet sat +down in the long grass to rest before ascending. The snow cut her face +and the thunder of the waves deafened her. After a few minutes she +started on. Davy's Light was straight behind her, so the halfway house +lay directly before. On, on in the dark and noise! She felt her way +with hands outstretched in front of her. At the dune top, the real +magnitude of the storm was apparent. On the mainland it was +comparatively mild. Here wind, tide, and heavy sea were let loose and +were battling in ferocious freedom. + +"Ah!" Janet caught her breath and staggered back, clutching the tall, +dry, ice-covered grass to steady herself; but a few more steps brought +her rudely against the shelter house. She pushed the door open. Neither +man had as yet arrived, so there was no fire lighted in the little +stove. Janet began to gather the wood and coal together in her stiff +fingers; but something stayed her. She felt ill and weak. So instead, +she crawled under the bench that ran across the side of the tiny hut and +hid in the darkness. She began to fear Billy's displeasure. For a moment +the faintness and nausea made cold and weariness sink into oblivion, and +before they reasserted themselves the door was opened and some one came +in. + +The dense darkness hid him, and Janet waited. The man struck a match and +hurriedly started the fire. By the sudden blaze she saw that it was Ai +Trueman, one of the crew from the farther station. Once the fire was +kindled and burning, the man sat down in the corner of the bench +directly over Janet's hiding place and shook his sou'wester free of the +ice and snow that had collected upon it. It was not long before the door +opened again. The fire was ruddily lighting the shed by this time, and +Janet, from her cramped position, saw Billy. Something in his appearance +made her catch her breath in alarm. It was not his ice-covered garments +that glistened in the red light nor his grim, rigid face, but the +strange stare of his wide-opened eyes that caused her alarm. + +"Bad night," said Ai, "but we've made good time." Billy had dropped upon +the opposite bench, and the ice crackled upon his garments. + +"Petered out some?" Ai now looked at Billy. "Ye look kind o' done fur." + +"Take my check out o' my pocket, left-hand one,"--Billy's voice sounded +far off and thin,--"an' put yours in. My hands is bit. The lids of my +eyes got froze down on my cheeks an' I couldn't see, so I thawed 'em out +by holdin' my hands up, an'--an' my hands caught it!" + +Janet dared not move. + +Ai exchanged checks, and then he bent over Billy. + +"Ye all right?" he asked doubtfully. + +"Sure." Billy tried to laugh, but his voice shook. "A frostbite don't +count none. I'm thawed out enough now fur my own comfort. I dar n't take +my eye off the bar. I tell _you_, Ai, if there's trouble t'-night, it's +goin' t' be real trouble." + +"'T is that!" said Ai, and the two men stood up. + +"Good night, Ai." + +"Good night, Billy, an' let's hope fur a safe walk back." + +They were gone! Then Janet came from her hiding. Her sickness had +passed; she was warmer and more comfortable, but she meant to keep close +to Billy on that return patrol! If all went well, he would forgive her +by and by. She was on the point of pushing the door open, when suddenly +the full blast of the gale struck her in the face. Some one was coming +back. It was Billy and he stood before her. Her face was away from the +light, and her sou'wester, drawn close, misled Billy; but Janet saw his +eyes wide and staring. + +"Ai," he panted, and his voice was thick, "I--I can't do it! The--the +works are runnin' down agin. It's better t' tell ye than t' drop out +there on the sand, an' no one ever know. Hurry back, man, an' watch both +ways as long as ye can." + +Billy swayed forward and Janet caught him. She laid him upon the floor +and bent above him. + +"My Cap'n!" she moaned, "oh! Cap'n Billy!" But Billy heeded her not. +"He's dead!" The horror-filled words startled even the speaker. "Dead! +my Billy!" But no, he breathed! "I must do his work, and get help!" the +girl started up wildly. "He isn't dead! He shall not die!" She took his +check from his pocket, and his Coston light. Then she gently moved him +nearer the stove, put coal on the blaze, and loosened the heavy coat. +"Now!" she muttered, and rushed out into the night and storm. The +strength of ten seemed to possess her; and the calmness of desperation +lent her power. + +The noise of the wind deadened the sound of the surf. Sometimes she +found herself knee deep in icy water,--for the tide was terribly high. +Then she crawled up to the dunes and felt with mittened hands for the +stiff grass. Presently she came to a rock, a rare thing on that coast, +and she clung to it desperately. It was as true a landmark to the girl +of the Station as a mountain peak would have been to an inland +traveller. + +"Only a mile more!" she panted, and then a memory of one of Davy's old +hymns came to her: + + "The shadow of a mighty rock within a weary land." + +She recalled how she, as a little child, had often crouched beside this +very rock when the summer's sun beat hot upon the sand. Summer! Was +there ever such a thing as summer on this ice-bound shore? She dreaded +to set forth again. A stupor was creeping over her, a stupor she had +been trained to fear. She struggled to her feet, but the mad thought of +summer would cling to her benumbed fancy. It fascinated and lured her +dangerously. She saw the Hills rise, many colored, in the blackness. She +saw Thornly's little hut with its door set open to the cool, refreshing +breeze. It was a breeze then, this fierce, cruel wind. It was a gentle +breeze when summer and love held part! She heard again the call of the +golden whistle; and this fancy made her draw her breath in sharp gasps. +She shut her stiff lids and saw Thornly coming over the sunlighted Hills +with his joy-filled face, shining in the summer day! + +Oh! if she could but hear that golden call just once again how happy she +would be! Maybe, when death came, God would let Thornly call her in +that way, just as God had let Susan Jane's lover come to her upon the +shining, incoming wave! + +But then Thornly was not her lover; she was his and that was different! + +"Death!" Again the girl struggled forward. She must not die! Why, Billy +was there alone, in the halfway house--and Billy's duty was still +unperformed. + +On, on once again! The wind was blowing in gusts now. It was reckoning +with the near-coming day and was lessening in fury. But the sudden +blasts were almost worse than the steady gale. Janet, weakened and numb, +was hardly upon her way, before she was knocked from her feet by the +cruel force and lay, face downward, upon the icy sand! Hurt and +discouraged, she yet managed to rise. The pain roused her dulled senses +and in the lull that followed a strange ghostly sound was borne seaward. +She stopped and stood upright. Again it came, plaintively and +persistently, rising and falling. As if the faint note had power over +night and tempest, the blackness seemed to break; the snow ceased, and +overhead, through a riven cloud, a pale, frightened moon peered +curiously. Then the wind shrieked defiantly. But again it came, that +tender, penetrating call, nearer, nearer, over the dunes, and down +toward the thundering sea! + +Still, as if frozen where she stood, Janet waited for--she knew not +what! Some one, in the dim, grayish light, was coming toward her, some +one tall and strong, but well-nigh spent! The man had seen her, too. + +"How far am I from the Station?" he shouted. + +It was Thornly's voice! It was the little whistle's call that had +stilled the storm, and brought hope! + +Janet could not answer. All power seemed gone from her. When he came +close he would know her and then--why, why had he come? + +The girl had forgotten her disfiguring garments. Thornly was within a +foot of her before he understood. Then he reeled back. The moon, for +another still moment, shone full upon the ice-covered figure and the +upturned face framed by the old sou'wester. + +"My God!" he cried and stretched out his arms, hardly knowing whether he +were warding off an apparition or reaching out to the woman he was +seeking so earnestly. + +"You!" he whispered, "you! Alone out here in all the storm and +darkness!" She tried to answer, but words failed her. She smiled +pitifully and put her hands in his. + +"I have wandered for hours!" Thornly was holding the girl closer. "Do +you hear and understand, Janet? I went to the Light. I saw your note +lying open on the table; I was afraid for you! I lost my way on the ice. +I had only Davy's Light to guide me; I landed, heaven only knows where! +But I wanted you! I've got you at last!" A fierceness shook the eager +voice, that was raised above the noises of the night. + +"Yes!" Janet spoke low and dreamily; again the cold stilled her pain. +The moon was hidden and grim darkness held them. "You--you +want--me--to--help you finish--your picture!" + +It really was a small matter; but even in the strangeness and numbness +the girl wished he had not come. He was greater and dearer when he had +stayed away and sacrificed his picture for her honor, and his own. + +"My picture? Good Lord! What do I care for my picture? Child, I want +you. Oh! I want you to help me to finish my life!" Thornly shook the +girl gently. She was in his arms. She was leaning against him heavily, +her icy garment striking harshly against his. How he blessed his great +strength that terrible night! He reasoned that Janet had crossed the bay +as he had, bent upon some errand at the Station. He had overtaken her in +time, thank God! for her strength was fast failing. + +"I must carry you!" he cried, but his words were drowned in the wind's +howling. "Here, I have my flask. Drink, Janet! Drink, dear, it will give +you new life. We must make the Station together." + +Janet swallowed painfully, but the liquor brought relief. Clinging to +Thornly, she went silently on. Between the last two dune tops, Davy's +Light again shone. + +"Only a half mile more!" panted the girl. Thornly knew the value of +making the most of what they had, and without speaking he pressed +forward, holding her close. Suddenly Janet stopped and pointed stiffly +seaward. + +"The bar!" she groaned. "See! a rocket!" + +Thornly strained his eyes. + +"Another!" the girlish voice was tense and hoarse. "They are on the +outer bar. God help them! Here, get the Coston out. Strike a light! My +hands are stiff. Oh! it rises! They answer! They know we have seen them. +Poor souls! Come, we must run!" + +[Illustration: "They're on the outer bar! Two rockets! I've answered!"] + +And she, who but a moment before was half dead from cold and exposure, +now ran as if sand and heavy, icy clothing had no power to stay her. + +Thornly, filled with terror at this new development and fearing that the +girl beside him would not be able to reach the Station, seized her more +firmly and rushed forward. + +"Oh! the Station! Do not lift me; I can make it now!" Thornly did not +relinquish his hold, and together they flung themselves against the +heavy doors of the little house. + +The light and warmth were in their faces. A ring of startled men stood +before them. + +"They're on the outer bar! Two rockets! I've answered!" The words came +in hard, quick breaths, and Janet swayed forward. It was Thornly who +bore her to a chair most distant from the red-hot stove. The men had +vanished like spectres. There was a hurried noise in the further room, +as the big cart, bearing the apparatus, was pushed into the night and +storm. + +"Opposite Davy's Light between the last two dunes!" called Janet. + +"All right!" Some one replied from beyond, then a stillness followed. +Thornly stood guard over the girl as she sat helplessly in the wooden +chair. The ice was melting and dripping from her clothing; the +sou'wester had fallen away from the sweet, worn face, and the pretty +cheeks showed two ominous white spots that bespoke frozen flesh. + +"I dare not take you nearer the fire!" Thornly's voice was unsteady. His +own returning circulation and consequent pain made him cruelly conscious +of what he knew she was suffering. + +She looked up bravely and smiled. "It's pretty bad," she said with a +quiver. "It hurts, doesn't it?" Then noticing for the first time that +Thornly was less protected than she, for he wore only his heavy +overcoat, which was crusted thick with ice, she forgot her own agony in +genuine alarm. + +"Take off those frozen things!" she commanded; "you must be drenched +through and through without an oiler. Make yourself comfortable. I must +go!" + +"Go! In heaven's name, go where?" Thornly paused as he was taking off +his cap, over which he had tied a silk muffler, and stared at the girl. + +"Why, to Cap'n Billy. You do not understand. He is back in the halfway +house. He may be dead!" A shiver ran over Janet, and she struggled to +her feet. "It is awful for me to sit here! You know nothing. I must +go!" + +Thornly firmly held her back. + +"His check," she faltered, "take it out of my pocket, please. No, the +left-hand pocket. That's it. Hang it there on the rack by the door. I +may not return, you know." + +"There's no time for explanations, Janet." Thornly had followed the +girl's directions mechanically, and now urged her back in the chair. "Of +course I will not let you go, but I am going to Cap'n Billy. Whatever +can be done, I will do. I will bring him on here, or I will stay with +him there until help reaches us; but you must obey what I say and wait +for us. You must trust me." + +She looked up at him tear blinded and pitiful. + +"Let me go with you," she pleaded. "I am used to it, and after all--what +matters now?" + +Thornly seized an oilskin coat from a peg on the wall, and thrust his +arms into it. + +"What matters?" he stopped to ask, looking at Janet with a puzzled +stare. "Why, don't you know, little girl, that this is the beginning of +everything for us? Can't you understand?" Over his anxiety and +excitement a sense of joy flooded. "Here!" he cried, trying to cheer +her, "it's going to be all right with Cap'n Billy and every one else. +Give me that rear decked boat you have on your head, Janet, and you'll +promise to stay here until I return?" + +He bent over her and drew the icy mittens from the stiff, little hands; +then he raised the cold fingers to his lips, and looked into the depths +of the upturned eyes. He had gone through his doubts and struggles since +he had left her on the Hills; she, poor girl, had long ago relinquished +her hope and love, but as she gazed now into the eyes bent above her she +understood! + +It was the climax of their young lives. Whatever lay beyond they could +not know. Whatever forces had driven them into this sanctuary they +neither of them sought to question. It might be their only moment. + +"I will wait," Janet whispered, clinging to him, "I will wait for +you--and Cap'n Daddy!" + +After Thornly was gone the unreality passed. The howling of the gale, +and the memories that flooded the present loneliness, drove the sudden +dream before them. While she stood housed and protected all that was +dear to her, all that meant life to her, was out there in the storm! + +Cap'n Billy dying, perhaps dead, three miles beyond! + +The crew manfully doing their duty by the men on the outer bar! + +Thornly, struggling to perform a task that might be beyond his strength; +while she, amid the danger and storm, stood idle! + +"Why!" she cried, "this is as bad as that drowsiness out on the shore. I +must do something! I had no right to promise!" She ran to the window and +tore aside the little curtain. Her heavy coat fell from her, and with it +seemed to drop the weight and burden that had oppressed her. The +sluggishness of mind and body was gone. She was herself again! "No +promise must hold me from my Cap'n Daddy!" she whispered in a soft +defiance. + +Just then the darting lanterns of the crew, far down the beach, +attracted her. And through the grim, grayish light of the dying night +shone Davy's Light, faithful and strong. + +She stood surrounded by courageous duty. Her life lesson had been one +long training for duty. Was she to fail now? + +But what was her duty? Slowly a radiance spread from brow to chin. The +livid spots on either cheek smarted into consciousness at the rush of +blood that bore surrender with it. Above even Billy's claim to her +faithfulness was her promise to Thornly! There was one greater, now, in +her life than Cap'n Billy. + +"And he has undertaken my task!" She pressed her burning cheek to the +frosted glass. "I will trust him, and he shall trust me!" + +So while Davy tended his Light, while the crew gave heart of hope to the +wretched men upon the outer bar, while Thornly in the dark and storm +struggled onward to the doing of a duty he had taken upon himself, Janet +made ready for what might lie before. + +She ran to the loft above and carried down cots and blankets. She heated +kettles of water and fed the huge stove until it blazed and roared; then +she brought from the Captain's room the medicine chest and the liquor +that were kept for emergencies. + +Still no one came! Janet gave herself no time for idle thought, nor did +she permit her fevered fancy to run free. There was still something to +do! She must provide for them who were risking their lives for others. +She made strong coffee, and cut slices of bread from the massive loaves. +Then suddenly, like a flash of humor in the tortured loneliness, she +remembered Jared Brown's liking for tomatoes and set forth a large can. +The homely tasks were steadying the strained nerves, but every time the +wind rattled the doors the girl started. + +The hours dragged on. The gale began to sob spasmodically as the day +conquered it. The grayish light outside brightened--what was that? + +The shed door was opening! The panting wind tore the kitchen door wide, +and Janet saw three men advancing! She tried to run to them, but the +body refused to respond to the eager will. She could not anticipate a +knowledge that might mean so much! + +Thornly and Ai Trueman came into the glow of the hot kitchen, and +between them they dragged Cap'n Billy! Janet saw that he was alive, and +when he realized that it was she who stood before him, the old, +comforting smile struggled to the poor, worn face. + +"Don't take on!" he panted as they placed him upon the nearest cot and +began to strip his icy clothing from him; "this ain't what ye might call +anythin' at all!" + +Janet knelt beside him. "My Cap'n!" was all she could say; "my own, dear +Cap'n Daddy!" + +"Ye little--specimint!" Billy closed his eyes luxuriously. "They've told +me what ye've done!" + +"I found him in the halfway house," Ai explained while Thornly mixed a +hot drink for Billy. "You see, I was nearly back t' the Station when I +saw that signal frum the bar. My crew had seen it, too, an' they come +racin' down as I was makin' fur them. On the way back I noticed the +door o' the shelter open an' a tearin' fire lightin' up the place. I +stopped t' see that all was safe, an' there on the floor, actin' like +all possessed, was Billy! He was fur goin' with the men, but he couldn't +stand on his legs. It was somethin' fierce the way he took on. I sort o' +hauled him up an' swore I'd get him down t' the shore somehow, when this +gentleman," Ai waved one of Billy's boots, which he had just managed to +get off, toward Thornly, "come in an' he kind o' took command, as you +might say, an' ordered us on t' this here port." + +Janet was pressing her face against the weary one upon the pillow, and +murmuring over and over in a gentle lullaby, "My Cap'n, my Cap'n!" +Thornly came over to the cot and raised Billy to feed him the drink. +Billy looked up and smiled feebly. + +"If I ain't needed here," Ai said, "I'll take a haul o' coffee an' then +fetch some down t' the men." Janet started. + +"Oh! I forgot," she cried; "what about the wreck?" + +"The tide's turnin'," Ai replied from the depths of a bowl of coffee. +"Like as not the ship will lift by mornin'! More frightened than hurt +anyway, I guess. They've signalled us t' stand by till daybreak, but I'm +thinkin' they'll hist before then!" + +When Ai had gone Thornly put the cup down, and placed Billy back on the +pillows. The heavy eyes opened and fell upon the two faces near. Then a +puzzled expression settled in the kindly gaze. + +"Ye've got yer chart t' sail by, my gal," he whispered, going back in +memory to that night when he had told Janet of her mother. "I ain't +goin' t' worry any more!" + +The words trailed off into unconsciousness, and Cap'n Billy swung at +anchor between this port and that beyond. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +A southwest wind howled around the little hut upon the Hills. The season +was in one of its humorous moods, for the day was almost summer-like in +spite of the wind's noisy insistence. Between the tops of the highest +dunes the white crested heads of the waves could be seen at times; and +the deep, solemn tones announced that there was "a heavy sea on." + +The nearer water of the bay, in imitation of its mighty neighbor, echoed +in mildest tones its restlessness, and tossed its feathery foam high +upon the pebbly beach. + +Thornly had found the first May pinks by the roadside that morning, and +Mark Tapkins had mentioned, in passing, that Cap'n Billy was soon coming +off. By these signs, and the singing in his heart, he knew the spring +had come. + +He was sitting before the easel upon which rested "The Pimpernel," +finished at last! + +The work had been his salvation through the long weeks of waiting since +that night upon the beach. Alternately exulting and despairing, he had +painted in a frenzy born of starved desire and memory-haunted love. + +Only once had he seen Janet alone since that eventful night, for Billy's +dangerous illness claimed her every thought and hour. But that once, +while Davy sat beside his friend, she had walked with Thornly upon the +sands and had told him her life story. Very simply she had spoken, +watching, meanwhile, the effect upon her listener. He had been startled +and shaken by the recital, and for a time Janet had misunderstood him. + +"You must go away and think it over," she had said; "I am not the same +girl, you see!" + +"Great heavens, Janet!" Thornly had exclaimed when once he recovered +from his surprise. "Do you think anything can make a difference now? +Why, you are dearer a thousand times in ways you cannot realize, for I +know Mr. Devant better than you do, and I am glad for him." + +Janet shook her head. "Cap'n Billy must never know," she whispered. +"There may never be a chance, but in any case he shall never have that +hurt." + +"It would be an added joy, little girl," Thornly insisted, but Janet +would not consider it. + +"So please go now," she had pleaded finally. "Go and think and think. +Perhaps by and by--who can tell? Just now it must be only my Cap'n +Daddy." + +Thus with the courage and patience of her nature the girl had set aside +her own love and yearning; and Thornly took to the Hills and the +unfinished picture of "The Pimpernel." + +The glorious face upon the canvas changed and assumed character +according as the master's mood swayed him. + +One day it would shine forth with the sweet questioning of joyous +girlhood. Then Thornly, remembering how the question had been answered +on a certain summer day when ignorance died and knowledge was born, +wiped away the expression while his heart grew heavy within him. + +Then he would paint her as he recalled her on that black night upon the +beach when, her uplifted face touched by the fleeting rays of the white +moon, she had asked him if he needed her to help him finish his picture. + +No! no! He could not paint her so. That was no face for a flower +wreath--and the flowers he must have! + +Again he painted her as he had last seen her. The love light shining in +her eyes while courageously she put her joy from her until her duty to +Billy was ended, and her lover had had time to think. + +Thornly had thought! Never in his life had he thought so deeply and +intensely, and from out the thought and love the soul of Janet had +evolved and become fixed upon the canvas. "It is a masterpiece!" cried +the artist in the man, as he gazed upon the glorious face. + +"It is my woman!" responded the man in the artist. "My Spirit of the +dunes with the strength of the Hills and the mystery of the sea." + +A sudden knock shattered the ecstasy. "Come!" called Thornly and turned +to meet his guest. Mark Tapkins awkwardly entered. Mark had been a great +resource to Thornly lately. Unconsciously he had been a link between +Janet and the Hills. In his slow, dull fashion he repeated all he saw +and heard at the Station, and Thornly, trusting to Tapkins's +uncomprehending manner, sent messages to the dunes that he knew Janet's +keener wit would interpret and understand. But Thornly had still +something to learn about Tapkins. + +"Any news this morning?" he said cheerily, pushing a stool toward Mark. + +"She's come off," said Tapkins with his eyes fixed upon "The Pimpernel." + +"Is already off?" Thornly's color rose. "You know you said they were +coming soon." + +"They've come! Her an' Billy is down t' Davy's." + +"And Billy, how is he?" asked Thornly. + +"Middlin'. But he ain't complainin' none. Say, Mr. Thornly, I don't know +as you understand why I've been runnin' here so much lately? You see I +wanted, so t' speak, t' git the lay o' the land 'twixt you an'--her!" + +Tapkins kept his eyes upon the vivid face, only by its inspiration could +he hold to his purpose. + +"Have you got it, Tapkins?" Thornly bent closer and gazed at his visitor +keenly. + +"I seem t' sense it," was the low reply. "Travel an' city ways, Mr. +Thornly, make men understand each other." The old foolish conceit added +dignity to the evident purpose with which Mark was struggling. "Now, +over t' the Station the crew think you're a 'vestigator!" + +So they had been talking him over, those quiet, apparently unobservant +men! + +"What do they think I'm investigating, Tapkins?" Thornly's gaze +contracted, and he clasped his hands rigidly around his knees. He felt +as if he were before a bar of justice and he must weigh the evidence +against himself. + +"The sand bar," Mark replied. "Every once so often some fellers come +down here with a fool notion o' cuttin' down the sand bar, an' dredge +deep enough to make a inlet int' the bay." + +"Perhaps they may, some day, Tapkins." Thornly felt that along this line +he might sooner reach his friend's purpose in calling for the second +time that day. "It's not a bad idea, you know. It would sweeten the +waters of the bay, carry off the stagnant growth and let in a lot of new +life. But you do not think I'm an investigator, eh, Mark?" + +Tapkins turned suddenly and faced his host. + +"Not that kind, Mr. Thornly," he said, in a tone that brought, again, +the color to Thornly's face. "An' what's more," Tapkins continued, "I +don't think same as you do 'bout the inlet, nuther, Mr. Thornly. Nater +is pretty much alike in sand bars, an' folks, an' what not! God Almighty +knows what He's about when He piles up them dunes what divides ocean an' +bay; an' folks an' folks!" + +"Go on, Tapkins!" This was worthy of Cap'n Davy. The sojourn at the +Light had had its influence upon the assistant keeper. Mark gulped and +turned his gaze upon the picture. + +"'T ain't no good tryin' t' mix things, Mr. Thornly. That's what the +crew tells them fellers 'bout the bar. They don't listen none. They work +like beavers, an' we hold off an' have our laugh. Then they go away real +pleased after they've cut through, but nation! 't ain't any time 't all +'fore the sand's piled up agin. It's awful foolish workin' agin Nater." + +"Just what kind of an investigator do you take me for, Tapkins?" Thornly +felt he must know the worst, and at once. The look Mark cast upon him +was full of trouble. He did not want to wrong this man he had grown to +like, but a sense of duty lashed him on. + +"The Lord knows, Mr. Thornly," he faltered, "I don't want t' make any +mistakes. It's turrible confusin' when you try t' label folks. The same +acts mean different 'cordin' t' the handlin', an' a good man an' a bad +man bear a powerful likeness t' each other on the outside, sometimes. +Once I didn't speak out t' a friend when I ought t', an'--an', well, +there was, what you might say, a wreck! I ain't goin' t' hold back +another time. Mr. Thornly, you're stayin' on down here, 'cause you have +some sort o' idee o' openin' up a inlet 'twixt sich folks as you an' Mr. +Devant an'--her!" Mark waved his cap toward the easel. "'T ain't no use, +Mr. Thornly, s'pose you did cut through an' clean an' honest, too, don't +you see a little craft like that one couldn't sail out int' deep waters? +an' the Lord knows, big craft like you an' him would get stranded in no +time down here. Folks is separated fur a good reason. 'T ain't a +question o' one bein' better nor the other," Tapkins raised his head +proudly, "it's jest a case o' difference. Cuttin' down barriers ain't +goin' t' do nothin' but cause waste o' time in buildin' 'em up agin." + +Never before in his life had Mark spoken so eloquently nor so lengthily. + +A dimness rose in Thornly's eyes, and a respect for the awkward fellow +grew in his heart. He arose and stood before Tapkins, his hand resting +protectingly upon "The Pimpernel." + +"You're one of the best fellows I've ever met, old man!" he said, "and +you've lived pretty deep; but there is another point of view about those +sand bars of yours. There is going to be an inlet all right, some day, +over on the dunes! When that time comes, beside sweetening the waters of +the bay and doing all the rest, something else is going to happen and +don't you forget it! Craft from outside will come in and not get +stranded, either; and what's more, some craft of yours that is stronger +and better fitted than you know of is going to sail out into the open, +test its strength and not get wrecked! Sand bars are for nothing in the +world, Tapkins, but for conquering. Take my word for that. It all +depends upon who tackles the job of the inlet, see?" + +Mark got upon his feet and took the hand that was suddenly stretched out +to meet his. Thornly held the poor fellow's tear-filled eyes by the +radiance of his own. + +"We understand each other, old man," he continued. "I am going, please +God, to cut through a barrier that has no right to exist. I'm going to +let as brave and trusty a little craft as ever sailed go out into the +broad waters where she belongs. Do you catch on, Tapkins?" + +"I do that!" murmured Mark, and he dropped Thornly's hand. "I'll watch +out, Mr. Thornly. It's my way t' watch, an' I'm learnin' one thing over +an' over. In this life there's plenty t' learn if you've got--power!" + +Mark had done his duty and departed. Thornly watched him from the open +door until he shambled from sight. Then a new doubt arose. While he had +waited alone upon the Hills, working and loving without distrust of the +future, they, these patient conservatives of Quinton, had discussed him +from every point of view and were ready when he pressed his claim to +judge him. + +How different from his old world was this one of the dunes! What +different standards existed from those which swayed Katharine Ogden and +her kind! Unless he met their demands, he could mean nothing to them. +How far had time and discussion influenced Janet? Might she not fear to +try the larger life with him; she who had, without a quiver, discarded +Devant with his claims and yearnings? + +For a moment the day seemed chilly and the sky darker. But Thornly was +not one to hold back when even the slightest hope beckoned. He would not +wait for her to call him, he would go to her! + +He closed the door and strode down the sandy road. He passed the new inn +at the foot of the Hills, and returned the salute that Pa Tapkins waved +to him with a kettle from the kitchen window. As he neared the bay the +salt smell of the water seemed to give him strength. There was James +B.'s little boat at his wharf and Eliza Jane in the doorway of the low, +vine-covered house. + +"You jest better be goin' on!" she called to James B., who was loitering +on the village side of the garden. + +"I ain't more'n jest come off!" James B. answered. "I ain't any more'n +had time t' swaller my dinner." + +"Well, what more do you want?" snapped his wife. "You go on now, an' do +what I tell you. An' there ain't no use t' turn the P'int t' the +village, nuther. I kin see your sail till you reach the Station, an' if +you don't go straight on, I kin reach the village store 'fore you kin. +So 't ain't no use, James B." + +James B. evidently agreed with her, for he turned and went +disconsolately toward the wharf. + +Thornly smiled and his old cheerfulness returned. He was seeing these +people, slowly, through Janet's eyes. They were so brave, patient, and +humorous. They were so human and faulty and lovable. Among them she, +poor little wayfarer, had got her life lesson--how would she apply it +now? + +Before him rose Davy's Light, its glistening head ready for duty when +the night should come. Some one was waving from the balcony up aloft! +Some one had been watching the road from the Hills! Thornly's heart beat +quicker. Was it Davy? + +Just then the playful wind caught the loosened, ruddy hair of the +watcher above, and Thornly hastened his steps. + +The rooms of the lighthouse were empty, and silence brooded over all. +Thornly mounted the winding stairs and, as if Davy's personality +pervaded the way, his heart lightened perceptibly at each landing. In +the little room below the lamp, Janet met him. + +"We're freshening up," she said with the old half-shy laugh, "Davy, +Cap'n Daddy, and I. Come!" + +Thornly stretched out his hands toward her. + +"Janet!" he whispered. "One moment, little girl!" She turned a full look +upon him. A look of love, of question, of joy! + +"Not yet. Come!" she repeated, and paused at the foot of the steps for +him to join her. + +On the sheltered side of the tower, in an easy-chair, sat Cap'n Billy. +Davy was hovering over him, good-naturedly scolding him for the exertion +he had made in getting to the balcony. + +"The next time, Billy, that ye take it in t' yer head t' come up here, +by gum! I'm goin' t' hist ye up from the outside, same as if ye war +ile! How are ye, Mr. Thornly?" he cried, turning quickly. "Take a seat +on the railin'. 'T ain't what ye might call soft an' yieldin', but +there's plenty of it, there bein' no beginnin' or endin'." He laughed +and sighed in quite the old way. Billy's sickness had brought back the +sigh. + +Thornly bent over Billy in greeting, and then seated himself where he +could look into all three faces. Janet sank upon a stool at Cap'n +Billy's feet. + +"You know why I have waited, Cap'n Billy, for this day?" he said. + +He could not resort to lesser means, when simple directness would be +better understood. Davy plunged his hands into his pockets and clutched +the courage that was supposed to lie there along with the pipe and +tobacco. + +Cap'n Billy with quaint dignity put his thin, brown hand upon Janet's +bowed head, and answered in kind. + +"I do that, Mr. Thornly. Out there on the beach arter I come in t' +consciousness, I done a heap o' thinkin', an' t'-day I told Davy I +knowed ye would come, an' I wanted t' freshen up on the balcony 'fore we +talked over the present and--the past!" + +"Can't we let the past go, Cap'n?" Thornly asked gently. "You know it +can never matter to me. The future is all that I want." Billy shook his +head. + +"Them's good heartsome words!" Davy broke in, tugging energetically at +his pockets. "An' spoke like a man, by gum! Let well enough alone, +Billy. You an' Janet is goin' t' stay right on at the Light, an' we'll +start in fresh from now!" When had Davy been a coward before? But +Billy's "works" might take to running down again, and that fear quelled +Davy's daring. But again Billy shook his head. + +"'Course the government ain't goin' t' take on an old feller like me," +he said, "'specially when he has t' be towed in himself when he's most +needed t' lend a hand; an' I ain't above takin' a place in the Light, +Davy, when I pull myself up sufficient, but I want once an' fur all t' +clar the air 'bout Janet." His troubled eyes looked pleadingly across +the sunny bay toward the Station that had been his resting place and +home for so long. + +"The old see mighty clar, Mr. Thornly," he said, turning his gaze to the +present. "An' as ye git near port it's amazin' how the big things, the +real things, hold yer thoughts an' longin's. I ain't done my whole duty +by my little gal, an' the fact shadders my days." + +"Don't say that, Cap'n Daddy!" Janet pressed closer to him. "You have +done your own duty and the duty of the whole world by me!" + +"That's like ye, Janet, t' say them words; but ye don't know all! That's +whar I've wronged ye." + +Davy saw that he must take a hand in what was going on. It would ease +Billy and spare Janet. + +"We've got, so t' speak," he commenced with grim determination, "t' open +up the grave of the Past." He was always poetical when emotion swayed +him. "Ye see, Mr. Thornly, t' put it plain an' square, me an' Billy +knows that ye have some idee o' Janet, an' Billy ain't goin' t' let ye +take her under no false pretences. As t' givin' our consent t' ye payin' +yer respects, so t' speak, t' Janet, me an' Billy don't know, 'cordin t' +law, as we have any right fur givin' or holdin' our consent. An' now ye +have it straight an' fair!" + +"Thank you, Cap'n Davy," Thornly replied, "but, I repeat, the past can +never mean anything to me." + +"But ye see, Mr. Thornly," Billy clung to his purpose, "this girl, +properly speakin', don't b'long t' me. She drifted in t' port early, an' +from, as ye may say, a wreck; I kept her, an' loved her, God knows, as +if she war my own. But she ain't!" + +This confession brought the beads of perspiration to Billy's brow, but +Thornly's unmoved expression calmed him. + +"My Cap'n Daddy!" Janet turned her face to the agitated one above her. +"I've told Mr. Thornly this already, and he does not care!" + +Billy drew a long, relieved sigh. + +"I only want Janet," Thornly hastened to say. "Whether she belongs +rightfully to you or not, Cap'n Billy, you have trained her into exactly +the kind of woman I would have her!" + +"That's the kind o' talk!" ejaculated Davy, and he drew out his pipe, +lighted it and inwardly gave thanks that they had all passed the bar so +successfully. + +"But that ain't enough!" Billy insisted, shattering Davy's calm. "I +knowed who Janet's mother was, but I never knowed her father. I never +tried t' find out. I allus war afraid I would somehow, an' that's what's +clutchin' me now. I ain't acted wise or square. It comes t' me lately +when I look at Janet, an' see how much she favors some one what I don't +know, that I ain't only cheated her, but I've cheated some man out o' +his own, no matter how ye look at it. She might 'a' been the means, so +t' speak, o' bringin' him t' grace; an' times is when I've wondered if +Janet won't blame me some day." + +"Never! never! my own Cap'n Daddy!" Janet reassured him, but her eyes +were troubled. An old doubt rose to take sides with Billy against her +own determination. + +"That's what ye say, not knowin', my girl." Poor Billy's wrinkled face +twitched. "If yer true father be among the livin', an' sufferin' has +eaten int' his soul, then don't ye see, I've stood 'twixt him an' his +chance of somewhat undoin' a bitter wrong? It ain't no light matter t' +take the settlin' o' things out o' God Almighty's hand. I wish I'd +hunted him up! 'T was my plain duty t' have done that, I see it now. I +wish I'd given my gal the choice 'tween him an' me! It's a growin' +trouble as time passes." The slow tears were rolling down Billy's +suffering face. Janet had no comfort for him now. In her ignorance she +had pushed aside her chance to give him what his honest soul had longed +for. Recalling Mr. Devant's words, she bowed her head upon Billy's knee +in contrition, and pressed her lips against his work-worn hand. + +Thornly stepped beside the crouching girl and laid a firm hand upon +Billy's shoulder. He must give no shock, but his time had come to take +another duty of Janet's upon himself. + +"Cap'n Billy," he said slowly, and Davy eyed him closely, "I know +Janet's--other father!" + +The sun crept around the tall tower. The wind fell into a lull after its +day of play. A silence held the little group for a moment, and then +Thornly went on: + +"He has suffered a lifetime of remorse. He is a lonely, sad man." + +"Ye hear that, Janet?" whispered Billy hoarsely, but his yearning eyes +were fixed upon the little house across the bay. + +"Yes, my Cap'n, I hear," came in muffled tones. + +How much the dear voice sounded like that one which years ago had so +named him! + +"An', God willin', ye kin have a choice, my girl, even now! I ain't +goin' t' stand 'twixt ye an' a open course. Ye've got his blood as well +as hers! Ye must choose yerself, Janet, an' do it just an' honest like +I've tried t' show ye how!" + +"Cap'n Billy,"--Thornly pressed the thin shoulder firmer, the real test +was coming now,--"our little girl has had her chance. She knows her +father; he came and offered her a life of luxury and pleasure--and she +chose you!" + +"Gawd!" burst from Davy, and his pipe lay shattered upon the floor. + +Billy breathed quicker, but the habit of a lifetime helped him bear this +crowning bliss. To such as he it sometimes happens that an inner sense +prepares the soul for its mounts of vision. In the silence that +followed, Billy struggled in memory from that long-ago time when his +love was young, to this hour when he was to know! + +"An' he--is?" He spoke waveringly like a child feeling out into the +darkness for an object he knows is there. Thornly waited for what his +love trusted. + +"Mr. Devant, my Cap'n Daddy!" The answer was in Janet's voice. + +"I--I sort o' sensed it!" whispered Billy. "An' ye chose me when ye had +sich a chance?" Wonder thrilled through the question. Was he to know +more joy? + +"Yes, my own Daddy. I chose you because I loved you! I never even wanted +you to know. But Mr. Thornly knew you better than I. You are nobler +than I thought." + +"An' ye loved me like that?" A shining joy broke over Billy's face, a +joy that drove pain and remorse before it. "Do ye hear that, Davy? An' +ye once said God couldn't pay me fur what I done! Why, man, God paid me +all along the way, an' now He's added more'n I ever earned!" The weak +voice rose rapturously. "Mr. Thornly, I want that ye should send fur Mr. +Devant. I ain't goin' t' prove unworthy o' the Lord's trust in me!" + +"Daddy! Daddy!" broke from Janet. Billy stayed her with a look. + +"No, my gal. This ain't no matter fur ye! This be man's work!" + +"Right you are, Cap'n!" Thornly grasped the old hand. Davy drew near and +looked upon his friend as if he were seeing him for the first time in +years. + +"By gum!" he said. "An' that's what has been draggin' on ye all these +years! Why, Billy, you an' me is goin' t' take a new lease o' life!" + +"We are that!" nodded Billy. Then he turned to Thornly. + +"I ain't never goin' t' doubt a man like you, Mr. Thornly," he said, +"but ye see I could only train Janet one way, havin', as ye know, no +other 'sperience. I ain't use t' sich waters as ye sail, an' Janet ain't +much wiser. I'm thinkin'," he paused and tried to see his way, "I'm +thinkin', Mr. Devant might help ye on this tack. Sort o' steer this +little craft, so t' speak, till it's able to keep upright." + +Quietly the girl by Billy's knee arose. She stood just where the +westering sun touched her with a golden glow. Thornly drew his lips in +sharply as he looked at her, and even Billy and Davy were awed by what +they in no wise comprehended. + +"Daddy dear," said the sweet voice, "I am going to be very fond of Mr. +De--of my father, by and by. We are going to be great friends, I know, +and that will make you glad. But I must always be your girl! I am not +afraid to sail out upon the broad middle ocean. I used to tell Davy that +I longed to go; but I want no other help than your chart, my Cap'n, and +my Davy's Light!" Her lifted eyes were tear-filled as they rested in +turn upon the two rugged faces. Then she looked at Thornly and her tears +were dried as desire grew to trust and perfect understanding; he opened +his arms to her and she came to him gladly. + +"And my love, my Pimpernel!" he whispered as his lips pressed the soft, +ruddy hair. + +The birds twittered among the nooks and corners of Davy's Light. The bay +sparkled, and across the dunes the ocean's voice spoke in the deep +cadences of a mighty organ's tone. + +"_An' there was glory over all the land_," Davy chanted as he turned to +his evening duty. "_A flood o' glory._" + + + + + * * * * * * + + + +JOHN FOX, JR'S. +STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The "lonesome pine" from which the story takes its name was a tall tree +that stood in solitary splendor on a mountain top. The fame of the pine +lured a young engineer through Kentucky to catch the trail, and when he +finally climbed to its shelter he found not only the pine but the +_foot-prints of a girl_. And the girl proved to be lovely, piquant, and +the trail of these girlish foot-prints led the young engineer a madder +chase than "the trail of the lonesome pine." + + +THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "Kingdom Come." It +is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural and honest, from which often +springs the flower of civilization. + +"Chad" the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor whence he +came--he had just wandered from door to door since early childhood, +seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who gladly fathered and +mothered this waif about whom there was such a mystery--a charming waif, +by the way, who could play the banjo better than anyone else in the +mountains. + + +A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland, the lair of +moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moonshiner's son, and the +heroine a beautiful girl perversely christened "The Blight." Two +impetuous young Southerners fall under the spell of "The Blight's" +charms and she learns what a large part jealousy and pistols have in the +love making of the mountaineers. + +Included in this volume is "Hell fer-Sartain" and other stories, some of +Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley narratives. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY +GENE STRATTON-PORTER +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +THE HARVESTER + +Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs + +"The Harvester," David Langston, is a man of the woods and fields, who +draws his living from the prodigal hand of Mother Nature herself. If the +book had nothing in it but the splendid figure of this man, with his +sure grip on life, his superb optimism, and his almost miraculous +knowledge of nature secrets, it would be notable. But when the Girl +comes to his "Medicine Woods," and the Harvester's whole sound, healthy, +large outdoor being realizes that this is the highest point of life +which has come to him--there begins a romance, troubled and interrupted, +yet of the rarest idyllic quality. + + +FRECKLES. Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford + +Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in which he +takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the great +Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets him succumbs to +the charm of his engaging personality; and his love-story with "The +Angel" are full of real sentiment. + + +A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. + +Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda. + +The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable type of +the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and kindness +towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the sheer beauty of +her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from barren and +unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. + +It is an inspiring story of a life worth while and the rich beauties of +the out-of-doors are strewn through all its pages. + + +AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. + +Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. Design and decorations by Ralph +Fletcher Seymour. + +The scene of this charming, idyllic love story is laid in Central +Indiana. The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender +self-sacrificing love; the friendship that gives freely without return, +and the love that seeks first the happiness of the object. The novel is +brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and its pathos +and tender sentiment will endear it to all. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. + +A charming story of a quaint corner of New England where bygone romance +finds a modern parallel. The story centers round the coming of love to +the young people on the staff of a newspaper--and it is one of the +prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fashioned love stories, * * * a +rare book, exquisite in spirit and conception, full of delicate fancy, +of tenderness, of delightful humor and spontaneity. + + +A SPINNER IN THE SUN. + +Miss Myrtle Reed may always be depended upon to write a story in which +poetry, charm, tenderness and humor are combined into a clever and +entertaining book. Her characters are delightful and she always displays +a quaint humor of expression and a quiet feeling of pathos which give a +touch of active realism to all her writings. In "A Spinner in the Sun" +she tells an old-fashioned love story, of a veiled lady who lives in +solitude and whose features her neighbors have never seen. There is a +mystery at the heart of the book that throws over it the glamour of +romance. + + +THE MASTER'S VIOLIN. + +A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old German virtuoso +is the reverent possessor of a genuine "Cremona." He consents to take +for his pupil a handsome youth who proves to have an aptitude for +technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth has led the happy, +careless life of a modern, well-to-do young American and he cannot, with +his meagre past, express the love, the passion and the tragedies of life +and all its happy phases as can the master who has lived life in all its +fulness. But a girl comes into his life--a beautiful bit of human +driftwood that his aunt had taken into her heart and home, and through +his passionate love for her, he learns the lessons that life has to +give--and his soul awakes. + +Founded on a fact that all artists realize. + + +_Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +STORIES OF WESTERN LIFE +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +RIDERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE, By Zane Grey. + +Illustrated by Douglas Duer. + +In this picturesque romance of Utah of some forty years ago, we are +permitted to see the unscrupulous methods employed by the invisible hand +of the Mormon Church to break the will of those refusing to conform to +its rule. + + +FRIAR TUCK, By Robert Alexander Wason. + +Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood. + +Happy Hawkins tells us, in his humorous way, how Friar Tuck lived among +the Cowboys, how he adjusted their quarrels and love affairs and how he +fought with them and for them when occasion required. + + +THE SKY PILOT, By Ralph Connor. + +Illustrated by Louis Rhead. + +There is no novel, dealing with the rough existence of cowboys, so +charming in the telling, abounding as it does with the freshest and the +truest pathos. + + +THE EMIGRANT TRAIL, By Geraldine Bonner. + +Colored frontispiece by John Rae. + +The book relates the adventures of a party on its overland pilgrimage, +and the birth and growth of the absorbing love of two strong men for a +charming heroine. + + +THE BOSS OF WIND RIVER, By A. M. Chisholm. + +Illustrated by Frank Tenney Johnson. + +This is a strong, virile novel with the lumber industry for its central +theme and a love story full of interest as a sort of subplot. + + +A PRAIRIE COURTSHIP, By Harold Bindloss. + +A story of Canadian prairies in which the hero is stirred, through the +influence of his love for a woman, to settle down to the heroic business +of pioneer farming. + + +JOYCE OF THE NORTH WOODS, By Harriet T. Comstock. + +Illustrated by John Cassel. + +A story of the deep woods that shows the power of love at work among its +primitive dwellers. It is a tensely moving study of the human heart and +its aspirations that unfolds itself through thrilling situations and +dramatic developments. + + +_Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +CHARMING BOOKS FOR GIRLS +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. D. Williams. + +One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever been +written. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable +and thoroughly human. + + +JUST PATTY, By Jean Webster. + +Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. + +Patty is full of the joy of living, fun-loving, given to ingenious +mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which +is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. + + +THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL, By Eleanor Gates. + +With four full page illustrations. + +This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate children +whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, seldom +seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tenderness. A +charming play as dramatized by the author. + + +REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +One of the most beautiful studies of childhood--Rebecca's artistic, +unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of +austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenomenal +dramatic record. + + +NEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. + +Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. + +Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that +carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. + + +REBECCA MARY, By Annie Hamilton Donnell. + +Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen Green. + +This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque +little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a +pathos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. + + +EMMY LOU: Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin. + +Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton. + +Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. She +is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is +wonderfully human. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS +THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. + +Illustrated by Wm. Charles Cooke. + +This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran for +two years in New York and Chicago. + +The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge directed +against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison for three +years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. + + +WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. + +Illustrated with scenes from the play. + +This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who is suddenly +thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her dreams," where +she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers. + +The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played in +theatres all over the world. + + +THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. + +Illustrated by John Rae. + +This is a novelization of the popular play in which David Warfield, as +Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. + +The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, powerful, +both as a book and as a play. + + +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. + +This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit, +barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness. + +It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play has +been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. + + +BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace. + +The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Romance on a +height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The +clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect +reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere +of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tremendous dramatic +success. + + +BOUGHT AND PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur Hornblow. +Illustrated with scenes from the play. + +A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created an +interest on the stage that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid +in New York, and deal with conditions among both the rich and poor. + +The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments which +show the young wife the price she has paid. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS +Original, sincere and courageous--often amusing--the kind that are +making theatrical history. + + +MADAME X. By Alexandre Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. Illustrated with +scenes from the play. + +A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her husband would not +forgive an error of her youth. Her love for her son is the great final +influence in her career. A tremendous dramatic success. + + +THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. + +An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable stranger meet and +love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged this season with magnificent cast +and gorgeous properties. + + +THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew Wallace. + +A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting with extraordinary +power the siege of Constantinople, and lighting its tragedy with the +warm underglow of an Oriental romance. As a play it is a great dramatic +spectacle. + + +TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace Miller White. Illust. by Howard +Chandler Christy. + +A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell University +student, and it works startling changes in her life and the lives of +those about her. The dramatic version is one of the sensations of the +season. + + +YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph Chester. Illust. by F. R. Gruger +and Henry Raleigh. + +A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young man, each of +which is just on the safe side of a State's prison offence. As +"Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably the most amusing expose of +money manipulation ever seen on the stage. + + +THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wodehouse. Illustrations by Will Grefe. + +Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur burglary +adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the title of "A Gentleman +of Leisure," it furnishes hours of laughter to the play-goers. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +B. M. Bower's Novels +Thrilling Western Romances +Large 12 mos. Handsomely bound in cloth. Illustrated + + +CHIP, OF THE FLYING U + +A breezy wholesome tale, wherein the love affairs of Chip and Della +Whitman are charmingly and humorously told. Chip's jealousy of Dr. Cecil +Grantham, who turns out to be a big, blue eyed young woman is very +amusing. A clever, realistic story of the American Cow-puncher. + + +THE HAPPY FAMILY + +A lively and amusing story, dealing with the adventures of eighteen +jovial, big hearted Montana cowboys. Foremost amongst them, we find +Ananias Green, known as Andy, whose imaginative powers cause many lively +and exciting adventures. + + +HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT + +A realistic story of the plains, describing a gay party of Easterners +who exchange a cottage at Newport for the rough homeliness of a Montana +ranch-house. The merry-hearted cowboys, the fascinating Beatrice, and +the effusive Sir Redmond, become living, breathing personalities. + + +THE RANGE DWELLERS + +Here are everyday, genuine cowboys, just as they really exist. Spirited +action, a range feud between two families, and a Romeo and Juliet +courtship make this a bright, jolly, entertaining story, without a dull +page. + + +THE LURE OF DIM TRAILS + +A vivid portrayal of the experience of an Eastern author, among the +cowboys of the West, in search of "local color" for a new novel. "Bud" +Thurston learns many a lesson while following "the lure of the dim +trails" but the hardest, and probably the most welcome, is that of love. + + +THE LONESOME TRAIL + +"Weary" Davidson leaves the ranch for Portland, where conventional city +life palls on him. A little branch of sage brush, pungent with the +atmosphere of the prairie, and the recollection of a pair of large brown +eyes soon compel his return. A wholesome love story. + + +THE LONG SHADOW + +A vigorous Western story, sparkling with the free, outdoor, life of a +mountain ranch. Its scenes shift rapidly and its actors play the game of +life fearlessly and like men. It is a fine love story from start to +finish. + + +_Ask for a complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +THE NOVELS OF STEWART EDWARD WHITE + + +THE RULES OF THE GAME. Illustrated by Lajaren A. Hiller + +The romance of the son of "The Riverman." The young college hero goes +into the lumber camp, is antagonized by "graft" and comes into the +romance of his life. + + +ARIZONA NIGHTS. Illus. and cover inlay by N. C. Wyeth. + +A series of spirited tales emphasizing some phases of the life of the +ranch, plains and desert. A masterpiece. + + +THE BLAZED TRAIL. With illustrations by Thomas Fogarty. + +A wholesome story with gleams of humor, telling of a young man who +blazed his way to fortune through the heart of the Michigan pines. + + +THE CLAIM JUMPERS. A Romance. + +The tenderfoot manager of a mine in a lonesome gulch of the Black Hills +has a hard time of it, but "wins out" in more ways than one. + + +CONJUROR'S HOUSE. Illustrated Theatrical Edition. + +Dramatized under the title of "The Call of the North." + +"Conjuror's House" is a Hudson Bay trading post where the head factor is +the absolute lord. A young fellow risked his life and won a bride on +this forbidden land. + + +THE MAGIC FOREST. A Modern Fairy Tale. Illustrated. + +The sympathetic way in which the children of the wild and their life is +treated could only belong to one who is in love with the forest and open +air. Based on fact. + + +THE RIVERMAN. Illus. by N. C. Wyeth and C. Underwood. + +The story of a man's fight against a river and of a struggle between +honesty and grit on the one side, and dishonesty and shrewdness on the +other. + + +THE SILENT PLACES. Illustrations by Philip R. Goodwin. + +The wonders of the northern forests, the heights of feminine devotion, +and masculine power, the intelligence of the Caucasian and the instinct +of the Indian, are all finely drawn in this story. + + +THE WESTERNERS. + +A story of the Black Hills that is justly placed among the best American +novels. It portrays the life of the new West as no other book has done +in recent years. + + +THE MYSTERY. In collaboration with Samuel Hopkins Adams + +With illustrations by Will Crawford. + +The disappearance of three successive crews from the stout ship +"Laughing Lass" in mid-Pacific, is a mystery weird and inscrutable. In +the solution, there is a story of the most exciting voyage that man ever +undertook. + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +TITLES SELECTED FROM GROSSET & DUNLAP'S LIST +RE-ISSUES OF THE GREAT LITERARY SUCCESSES OF THE TIME +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace. + +This famous Religious-Historical Romance with its mighty story, +brilliant pageantry, thrilling action and deep religious reverence, +hardly requires an outline. The whole world has placed "Ben-Hur" on a +height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time has reached. The +clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, the perfect +reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce atmosphere +of the arena have kept their deep fascination. + + +THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By General Lew Wallace. + +A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, showing, with vivid +imagination, the possible forces behind the internal decay of the Empire +that hastened the fall of Constantinople. + +The foreground figure is the person known to all as the Wandering Jew, +at this time appearing as the Prince of India, with vast stores of +wealth, and is supposed to have instigated many wars and fomented the +Crusades. + +Mohammed's love for the Princess Irene is beautifully wrought into the +story, and the book as a whole is a marvelous work both historically and +romantically. + + +THE FAIR GOD. By General Lew Wallace. A Tale of the Conquest of Mexico. +With Eight Illustrations by Eric Pape. + +All the annals of conquest have nothing more brilliantly daring and +dramatic than the drama played in Mexico by Cortes. As a dazzling +picture of Mexico and the Montezumas it leaves nothing to be desired. + +The artist has caught with rare enthusiasm the spirit of the Spanish +conquerors of Mexico, its beauty and glory and romance. + + +TARRY THOU TILL I COME or, Salathiel, the Wandering Jew. By George +Croly. With twenty illustrations by T. de Thulstrup. + +A historical novel, dealing with the momentous events that occurred, +chiefly in Palestine, from the time of the Crucifixion to the +destruction of Jerusalem. + +The book, as a story, is replete with Oriental charm and richness, and +the character drawing is marvelous. No other novel ever written has +portrayed with such vividness the events that convulsed Rome and +destroyed Jerusalem in the early days of Christianity. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +AMELIA E. BARR'S STORIES +DELIGHTFUL TALES OF OLD NEW YORK +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. + + +THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON. With Frontispiece. + +This exquisite little romance opens in New York City in "the tender +grace" of a May day long past, when the old Dutch families clustered +around Bowling Green. It is the beginning of the romance of Katherine, a +young Dutch girl who has sent, as a love token, to a young English +officer, the bow of orange ribbon which she has worn for years as a +sacred emblem on the day of St. Nicholas. After the bow of ribbon +Katherine's heart soon flies. Unlike her sister, whose heart has found a +safe resting place among her own people, Katherine's heart must rove +from home--must know to the utmost all that life holds of both joy and +sorrow. And so she goes beyond the seas, leaving her parents as desolate +as were Isaac and Rebecca of old. + + +THE MAID OF MAIDEN LANE; A Love Story. With Illustrations by S. M. +Arthur. + +A sequel to "The Bow of Orange Ribbon." The time is the gracious days of +Seventeen-hundred and ninety-one, when "The Marseillaise" was sung with +the American national airs, and the spirit affected commerce, politics +and conversation. In the midst of this period the romance of "The +Sweetest Maid in Maiden Lane" unfolds. Its chief charm lies in its +historic and local color. + + +SHEILA VEDDER. Frontispiece in colors by Harrison Fisher. + +A love story set in the Shetland Islands. + +Among the simple, homely folk who dwelt there Jan Vedder was raised; and +to this island came lovely Sheila Jarrow. Jan knew, when first he beheld +her, that she was the one woman in all the world for him, and to the +winning of her love he set himself. The long days of summer by the sea, +the nights under the marvelously soft radiance of Shetland moonlight +passed in love-making, while with wonderment the man and woman, alien in +traditions, adjusted themselves to each other. And the day came when Jan +and Sheila wed, and then a sweeter love story is told. + + +TRINITY BELLS. With eight Illustrations by C. M. Relyea. + +The story centers around the life of little Katryntje Van Clyffe, who, +on her return home from a fashionable boarding school, faces poverty and +heartache. Stout of heart, she does not permit herself to become +discouraged even at the news of the loss of her father and his ship "The +Golden Victory." The story of Katryntje's life was interwoven with the +music of the Trinity Bells which eventually heralded her wedding day. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction_ +GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26TH ST., NEW YORK + + + * * * * * * + + +LOUIS TRACY'S +CAPTIVATING AND EXHILARATING ROMANCES +May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap's list. + + +CYNTHIA'S CHAUFFEUR. Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy. + +A pretty American girl in London is touring in a car with a chauffeur +whose identity puzzles her. An amusing mystery. + + +THE STOWAWAY GIRL. Illustrated by Nesbitt Benson. + +A shipwreck, a lovely girl stowaway, a rascally captain, a fascinating +officer, and thrilling adventures in South Seas. + + +THE CAPTAIN OF THE KANSAS. + +Love and the salt sea, a helpless ship whirled into the hands of +cannibals, desperate fighting and a tender romance. + + +THE MESSAGE. Illustrated by Joseph Cummings Chase. + +A bit of parchment found in the figurehead of an old vessel tells of a +buried treasure. A thrilling mystery develops. + + +THE PILLAR OF LIGHT. + +The pillar thus designated was a lighthouse, and the author tells with +exciting detail the terrible dilemma of its cut-off inhabitants. + + +THE WHEEL O'FORTUNE. With illustrations by James Montgomery Flagg. + +The story deals with the finding of a papyrus containing the particulars +of some of the treasures of the Queen of Sheba. + + +A SON OF THE IMMORTALS. Illustrated by Howard Chandler Christy. + +A young American is proclaimed king of a little Balkan Kingdom, and a +pretty Parisian art student is the power behind the throne. + + +THE WINGS OF THE MORNING. + +A sort of Robinson Crusoe _redivivus_ with modern setting, and a very +pretty love story added. The hero and heroine are the only survivors of +a wreck, and have many thrilling adventures on their desert island. + + +_Ask for complete free list of G. & D. 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