Part 40 (1/2)

He handed Sears an envelope addressed in Judge Knowles' hand-writing, and to Elizabeth another bearing her name.

”There!” he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief. ”That is done. Ever since the old judge left us I have been feeling as if he were standing at my elbow and nudging me not to forget. He had a will of his own, Judge Knowles had, and I don't mean the will we have just read, either. But, take him by and large, as you sailors say, Cap'n, I honestly believe he was the biggest and squarest man this county has seen for years. Some of us are going to be surer of that fact every day that pa.s.ses.”

It was after four when Elizabeth and Sears climbed aboard the buggy and the captain, tugging heavily on what he termed the port rein, coaxed the unwilling Foam Flake into the channel--or the road. Heavy clouds had risen in the west since their arrival in Orham, the sky was covered with them, and it was already beginning to grow dark. When they turned from the main road into the wood road leading across the Cape there were lighted lamps in the kitchens of the scattered houses on the outskirts of the town.

”Is it going to rain, do you think?” asked Elizabeth, peering at the troubled brown ma.s.ses above the tree tops.

Sears shook his head. ”Hardly think so,” he replied. ”Looks more like wind to me. Pretty heavy squall, I shouldn't wonder, and maybe rain to-morrow. Come, come; get under way, Old Hundred,” addressing the meandering Foam Flake. ”If you don't travel faster than this in fair weather and a smooth sea, what will you do when we have to reef? Well,”

with a chuckle, ”even if it comes on a livin' gale the old horse won't blow off the course. Judah feeds him too well. Nothin' short of a typhoon could heel _him_ down.”

The prophesied gale held off, but the darkness shut in rapidly. In the long stretches of thick woods through which they were pa.s.sing it was soon hard to see clearly. Not that that made any difference. Sears knew the Orham road pretty well and the placid Foam Flake seemed to know it absolutely. His ancient hoofs plodded up and down in the worn ”horse path” between the gra.s.s-grown and sometimes bush-grown ridges which separated it from the deep ruts on either side. Sometimes those ruts were so deep that the tops of the blueberry bushes and weeds on those ridges scratched the bottom of the buggy.

Beside his orders to the horse the captain had said very little since their departure. He had been thinking, though, thinking hard. It was just beginning to dawn upon him, the question as to what this good fortune which had befallen the girl beside him might mean, what effect it might have upon her, upon her future--and upon her relations with him, Sears Kendrick.

Hitherto those relations had been those of comrades, fellow workers, partners, so to speak, in an enterprise the success of which involved continuous planning and fighting against obstacles. A difficult but fascinating game of itself, but one which also meant a means of livelihood for them both. Elizabeth had drawn no salary, it is true, but without her help her mother could not have held her position as matron, not for a month could she have done so. It was Elizabeth who was the real matron, who really earned the wages Cordelia received and upon which they both lived. And Elizabeth had told the captain that she should remain at the Fair Harbor and work with and for her mother as long as the latter needed her.

And now Sears was realizing that the necessity for either of them to remain there no longer existed. Cordelia, thanks to Mrs. Phillips'

bequest, had five thousand dollars of her own. Elizabeth had, for the six or seven years before her thirtieth birthday, an income of at least twelve hundred yearly. Cordelia's legacy would add several hundred to that. If they wished it was quite possible for them to retire from the Fair Harbor and live somewhere in a modest fas.h.i.+on upon that income.

Many couples--couples esteemed by Bayporters as being in comfortable circ.u.mstances--were living upon incomes quite as small. Sears was suddenly brought face to face with this possibility, and was forced to admit it even a probability.

And he--he had no income worth mentioning. He could not go to sea again for a long time; he did not add ”if ever,” because even conservative Doctor Sheldon now admitted that his complete recovery was but a matter of time, but it would be a year--perhaps years. And for that year, or those years, he must live--and he had practically nothing to live upon except his Fair Harbor salary. And then again, as an additional obligation, there was his promise to Judge Knowles to stick it out. But to stick it out alone--without her!

For Elizabeth was under no obligation. She might not stay--probably would not. She was a young woman of fortune now. She could do what she liked, in reason. She might--why, she might even decide to marry. There was Kent----

At the thought Sears choked and swallowed hard. A tingling, freezing s.h.i.+ver ran down his spine. She would marry George Kent and he would be left to--to face--to face---- She would marry--_she_----

The s.h.i.+ver lasted but a moment. He shut his teeth, blinked and came back to the buggy seat and reality--and shame. Overwhelming, humiliating shame. He glanced fearfully at her, afraid that she might have seen his face and read upon it the secret which he himself had learned for the first time. No, she did not read it, she was not looking at him, she too seemed to be thinking. There was a chance for him yet. He must be a man, a decent man, not a fool and a selfish beast. She did not know--and she should not. Then, or at any future time.

He spoke now and hurriedly. ”Well,” he began, ”I suppose----”

But she had looked up and now she spoke. Apparently she had not heard him, for she said:

”Tell me about it, Cap'n Kendrick, please. I want to hear all about it.

You said you knew? You say Judge Knowles hinted that he was going to do this--for me? Tell me all about it, please. Please.”

So he told her, all that he could remember of the judge's words concerning his regard for her, of his high opinion of her abilities, of his friends.h.i.+p for her father, and of his intention to see that she was ”provided for.”

”I didn't know just what he meant, of course,” he said, in conclusion, ”but I guessed, some of it. I do want you to know, Elizabeth,” he added, stammering a little in his earnestness, ”how glad I am for you, how _very_ glad.”

”Yes,” she said, ”I do know.”

”Well, I--I haven't said much, but I _am_. I don't think I ever was more glad, or could be. You believe that, don't you?”

She looked at him in surprise. ”Why, of course I believe it,” she said.

”Why do you ask that?”

”Oh, I--I don't know. I hadn't said much about it.”

”But it wasn't necessary. I knew you were glad. I know you by this time, Cap'n Kendrick, through and through.”