CHAPTER XVIII
HARD LUCK
As the Tobins drew near the Hampton home, they heard the sound of music accompanied by singing. They stopped at the foot of the verandah steps and listened. The blind of the parlour window was up, and they could see Mrs. Hampton at the piano, with John and the fair visitor standing by her side. It was an old familiar song they were singing, and it sounded especially sweet to the three listeners outside.
"Say, I haven't heard anything like that fer years," the captain remarked. "It strikes me jist right. Let's stay here."
"We shall do no such thing," his wife replied. "It's not good manners."
"Isn't she pretty?" Flo whispered. "And how happy she and John seem to be."
Mrs. Tobin made no reply, but led the way up the steps, knocked at the door, opened it and walked in. This was her usual custom, and Mrs. Hampton always did the same when she visited the Tobins. The music and singing suddenly ceased as the visitors entered, and an expression of annoyance swept for an instant over John's face as he turned and saw Mrs. Tobin standing in the doorway.
"Excuse us for interrupting you," the latter began, "but we thought we'd make a neighbourly call to-night since Sam'l's home. We're all anxious to meet your company."
Mrs. Hampton had now left the piano and was advancing to meet her neighbours. She, too, was annoyed, for she knew only too well how Mrs. Tobin would make every effort to ferret out the secret of Miss Randall's presence. But as they had come, she had to make the best of it.
"It is thoughtful of you to come over," she replied. "We were enjoying a little music. This is Miss Bean, Mrs. Tobin. I feel sure you will be pleased to meet her."
Mrs. Tobin at once stepped forward and reached out her hand.
"Very glad I am to make your acquaintance, Miss. It's not often we see a stranger in this place. I hope you'll come over to see us."
Jess took Mrs. Tobin's hand in hers and was about to reply, when, happening to glance across the room, she saw the captain standing near the door. She recognised him at once, and her face turned white, while her body trembled. Mrs. Tobin believed that this agitation was due to her strenuous grip, and she quickly dropped the girl's hand.
"Excuse me, Miss," she apologised. "I didn't intend to hurt you. But when I shake hands I mean it. Now, some people just touch the tips of your fingers as if they were afraid you'd bite. That may be the fashionable way, but I like the good old handshake."
"I never let you shake hands with me, Mrs. Tobin," John laughingly told her. "I know you too well."
"And I guess you should," was the retort. "You often felt my hands when you were a boy, didn't you? I had to use them more than once, especially when you took my apples."
"Come, come, Mrs. Tobin, you must not give me away. Let us forget the past. I want the captain to meet Miss Bean. He looks as if he would like to run away. Come here, sir. You were always nervous in the presence of women, I know. But Miss Bean is perfectly harmless."
John was well aware why the captain wished to get out of the house. Knowing Mrs. Tobin as well as he did, he felt certain that her husband was most anxious to keep from her the story of his experience with Miss Randall on the "Eb and Flo." It amused him, and yet he felt it was his duty not only to the captain but to Jess as well not to divulge the secret. He had noticed the girl's white face and trembling hands, and surmised the cause.
The captain was indeed in a quandary. At the first glimpse of Miss Randall he was seized with a great fear. How could he face her in the presence of his wife? Would she recognise him, and call him by name? If she did, then he would be at once amid serious breakers on a stormy shore. He wanted to retreat, to get away from the house as fast as possible. But there was no escape, for he heard John telling him to come and meet the young woman. For a few seconds he stood as if rooted to the floor, staring straight before him. Notwithstanding her own agitation, Jess could hardly keep from smiling at the captain's confusion. She felt sorry for him, so acting upon the impulse of the instant, she crossed the room and held out her hand.
"I am very glad to meet you, Captain," she began, "You have a boat of your very own, so I understand. You will take me for a trip on the river some day, will you not? I have always longed for a sail in a wood-boat."
"Sure, sure, Miss, I'll take ye," the captain replied, much delighted at her action. "But mebbe ye'd better ask me wife. She's mighty pertic'ler who I take sailin', 'specially when it comes to women."
"Oh, I am sure Mrs. Tobin won't mind," Jess assured. "She's too sensible, I know. And, besides, I'm quite young."
A grim smile overspread Mrs. Tobin's face as she listened to this conversation. She was pleased with the girl, and anxious to learn more about her.
"I don't mind Sam'l taking you on the boat," she said, "and if you live along the river you can go with him as well as not. But I never heard of the Bean family before. I know about most of the people from St. John to Fredericton."
"Miss Bean's home is in the city," John explained. "She was visiting some friends at the quarry, and was hit on the head by a stone. I happened to be there at the time, and so brought her home with me last night. You heard about that other accident there, I suppose?"
"No; what accident?"
"A truck load of stone with two men on board struck a cow, which was standing on the track. The cow was killed, and one of the men was badly hurt."
"My, oh, my!" Mrs. Tobin exclaimed. "I never heard the like of such things as are taking place these days. With that poor girl drowned at Benton's wharf, another injured at the quarry, a cow killed, and a man hurt. The world must surely be coming to an end, for the Bible says there will be terrible things happening in the last days."
"Oh, I guess the world will wag along for some time yet," John laughingly replied. "Wouldn't you like to hear some music, Mrs. Tobin?"
They were all seated now, the captain as near the door as possible, that he might beat a hasty retreat should the situation become too embarrassing. He breathed more freely when music was mentioned.
"Let's have something lively, John," he suggested. "I haven't heard a real break-down fer a long time. Give us 'We won't go home 'til mornin',' or something like that."
"Sam'l, Sam'l," his wife protested. "I'm surprised at you. With so many terrible things happening around us, we should have hymns instead of songs. I'd like to have 'Oh, Day of Wrath, that Dreadful Day.' That's far more appropriate."
"Ugh!" the captain grunted. "That hymn 'ud give anyone the blues. What's the use of dyin' before yer time? But if ye want to sing hymns, let's start off with 'Here I'll Raise my Ebenezer.' It's a dandy, an' about the only one I know. But fer pity sakes, cut out the 'Day of Wrath.' I know too much about that already. Sometimes we have the night of wrath as well as the day at our house, eh, Martha?"
Everybody in the room smiled except Mrs. Tobin. She was deeply offended, and her wrath was about to descend when a distant roll of thunder startled her. The captain chuckled as he saw its effect upon his wife. He knew how a thunder storm always frightened her. In fact, it was about the only thing of which she was afraid.
"Guess the Day of Wrath's comin', Martha, sooner than ye expected," he chuckled. "Thar it is agin, an' nearer this time."
Mrs. Hampton rose and closed the window. Just at that instant a vivid flash of lightning almost blinded her, followed immediately by a terrific crash which shook the house. Mrs. Tobin screamed and leaped from her chair.
"Oh, oh!" she moaned. "Isn't it awful! We'll all be killed!"
"Ah, keep still, Martha," the captain chided. "We're all right. It's mighty lucky we have sich a comfortable place as this. Now, if we were out on the river——"
He suddenly ceased, while an expression of consternation swept across his face. A peculiar gurgle escaped his lips as he seized his hat and sprang to his feet.
"The 'Eb an' Flo'!" he gasped. "I fergot all about her, an' the sail's up! That boy'll be asleep, an' won't hear the storm. Oh, Lord!"
The next minute he was out of the house, and hurrying as fast as he could toward the shore. He had gone but a short way when the rain struck him, and soon he was drenched to the skin. He could only direct his course by the flashes of lightning, and after each illumination the darkness was more intense than ever. As he neared the shore, he stopped and peered anxiously forward, and by the next vivid streak which followed a terrific crash, he caught one fleeting glimpse of the "Eb and Flo." She was still there, and her sail was down. He breathed a sigh of relief, and again started forward toward the small boat pulled upon the shore. He had taken but a few steps, however, when his foot caught and twisted upon a root, causing him to fall heavily forward full upon his face. With a cry of distress, he scrambled to his feet, and tried to stand, but so severe was the pain that he was forced to sink down again upon the ground. That he had wrenched his ankle, he was certain, and he groaned whenever he moved. But he must reach the "Eb and Flo," for the storm was increasing in violence, and he was sure that the boat could not hold up against such a tempest. He tried to crawl in his endeavour to reach the shore. The perspiration stood out in beads upon his forehead as he worked himself along, but so intense was the pain in his foot that ere long he was forced to give up in despair. And as he lay there he kept his eyes fixed in the direction of the river, catching brief glimpses of the "Eb and Flo" as she tugged hard at her anchor.
A more vivid gleam than formerly presently illuminated the river, and as the captain looked, he emitted a hoarse cry. The boat was drifting! She was farther from the shore he could plainly tell. Then blackness closed down once again, leaving the helpless man racked with the agony of suspense. The next flash revealed the boat farther away, with sail up, and to all appearance being driven full upon the opposite shore.
"Oh, Lord!" he groaned. "She's done fer now! An' it's high tide, too! We'll never git her off them mud flats! How in time did Eben hist that sail in sich a storm? Why, it was all that both of us could do when it was calm."
The storm now was at its height, and so incessant was the lightning that the captain could see nothing more of the boat so dazzling was the illumination. The rain pelted upon him, and at times he groaned with pain.
"Guess I'll have to spend the night here," he muttered. "This is the worst fix I ever got into. Wish to goodness I could git some word to Martha. But she'll think I'm on board that boat by this time. I wonder what she'd say if she knew I was layin' here, helpless as a log. But, then, it might be worse. I'm alive, me leg ain't broke, an' the lightnin' hasn't hit me. I've got much to be thankful fer yet, even though the 'Eb an' Flo' does go on the flats. Old Parson Westmore used to say that when things got black always count yer blessin's, an' ye'll be surprised to find how many ye really have left. So cheer up, Sam'l Tobin, it'll take more'n a thunder storm an' a sprained ankle to knock ye out, blamed if it won't."
Under the inspiration of this resolve, he began to hum his favourite tune. It made him feel better, and soon he was singing at the top of his voice:
"Here I'll raise my Ebenezer,
Hither by Thy grace I'll come,
And I trust in Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home."
"My, them's great words!" he ejaculated, when he had finished.
"They've put new life into me already. Guess I'll sing 'em over agin.
There's nuthin' like a song in the night fer a sprained ankle."
As he lay there the storm gradually beat itself out, and rolled away in the distance. From where he was lying he could look up at his own house. Often he had turned his eyes in that direction, hoping to see a light in the window. But not the faintest gleam appeared to cheer his loneliness, so he knew that Martha and Flo must have remained at the Hamptons. No doubt they would go home when the storm ceased. After what seemed to him hours, he was rewarded by the sight of a light flickering among the trees. It was a lantern, he was certain, and he knew that John must be showing the visitors home. He watched it longingly as it neared the house. Could he make himself heard? Rising with difficulty to his knees, he lifted up his voice in several loud calls for help. Then he watched, while his heart beat fast within him. Again he called, and the light suddenly stopped. This was encouraging, so with a great effort he gave one more mighty whoop, ere he sank back exhausted upon the ground.
CHAPTER XIX
THE CAPTAIN GIVES ADVICE
"I can't really tell ye how it happened, Martha."
The captain was lying on the sofa in the sitting-room, with his injured foot resting on a pillow. His wife had applied hot cloths to the ankle, and rubbed it well with liniment.
"You must have tripped on something, Sam'l, as you were running," she remarked. "It's a wonder you weren't killed. I hope to goodness you won't get cold. Why, you were soaked to the skin."
"An' I might have been struck with lightnin', Martha. Jist think of that."
"Indeed you might. Or you might have broken your leg."
"Or cracked me rib," the captain growled. "But I didn't, so what's the use of worryin' about things that didn't happen. I'm here, with nuthin' worse than a sprained ankle. You an' Flo had better go to bed. I'm all right now. I want to stay right by this winder, so's I kin see the river as soon as it gits light enough. I'm anxious to know whar the 'Eb an' Flo' is aground. She must be hard on by this time. Wonder how Eben's makin' out."
"The poor boy must be greatly worried, Sam'l. Maybe he'll come home before morning."
"Mebbe he will, Martha. I never thought of that. But he'll not worry about the loss of the boat. Most likely he'll be glad, fer he doesn't take much to the water. I don't know what we're goin' to do with that boy."
"But what will you do without the boat, Sam'l? It's our only means of living, and with that gone we'll starve."
"Oh, I guess we'll pull through somehow. I'll git the boat afloat when her load's taken off, if she isn't too hard an' fast on them mud flats. My, it was sartinly some gale last night! I've been boatin' on this river fer over twenty-five years, an' I never saw anything like it. I thought mebbe you an' Flo intended to stay at the Hamptons all night. It was mighty lucky fer me, though, that ye didn't."
"Mrs. Hampton coaxed us to stay, but I wanted to get home. I had a peculiar feeling that something was the matter."
"An' didn't ye have a more peculiar feelin', Martha, when ye heard me yell? I imagined at first that ye didn't hear me."
"I really thought it was a dog howling, Sam'l. It was Flo who said it was a man calling for help. I then knew that it must be you. My, we had a job getting you to the house. We never could have done it if John hadn't been with us."
"It's a wonder he could leave his sweetheart long enough to come with ye, Martha. Did ye find out anything more about her?"
"Nothing. Mrs. Hampton banged on the piano, while John and the girl sang until my head ached. I believe they did it so I wouldn't ask any more questions. I really think there is something mysterious about Miss Bean. What was she doing at the quarry? How did she happen to get hurt? And how did John come to get so well acquainted with her? Mark my word, I shall find out all about her."
Little sleep came to the captain that night, and the hours wore slowly away. He had insisted that his wife and daughter should go to bed. Their presence annoyed him. He wanted to be alone that he might think, for he was more worried about the "Eb and Flo" than he would openly acknowledge. He was getting along in years, and boating was the only thing he could do to make enough to provide for his family. He could not afford to buy or build another craft for the season's work, not even a scow, so if the "Eb and Flo" could not be saved, he did not know what to do. His only hope lay in a heavy rain which would cause the river to rise enough to float the boat. That, however, was not a very bright outlook, for such a boon could hardly be expected during the summer. It was only in the fall when the heavy rains set in, and then it would be too late for much work. And besides, he would lose the carrying of the stones from the quarry. There was not much cordwood to be taken to the city, and most of the lumber from the mills was now being freighted in scows.
And thus he watched and waited, his anxious thoughts, and the pain in his foot driving all sleep from his eyes. Eagerly he listened to the clock as it ticked on the shelf across the room, and struck out the heavy-footed hours. Never did any night seem so long. Often he had sailed on the river from sunset to sunrise, and thought nothing of it. He had something to occupy his attention then. But now he had nothing to do but lie there and wait.
When at last the first faint signs of dawn began to steal into the room, the captain lifted himself to a sitting position and looked out of the window. But nothing could he see, for the river still lay enwrapped in the shadows of the hills beyond. Impatiently he waited, and at length he was enabled to view quite clearly the water as it stretched out before him. Eagerly his eyes searched for the "Eb and Flo," but not a sign of her could he behold. Nothing but the flats on the other side of the river met his view. What did it all mean? he asked himself. Where was the boat? A mingled feeling of curiosity, hope and anxiety possessed him, and only with the greatest difficulty could he restrain his impatience until his wife came downstairs.
"She's gone, Martha!" he shouted, as soon as his wife entered the room.
"She's nowhere in sight."
"What! The boat?" Mrs. Tobin replied, as she hurried to the window and peered out. She stood for a few seconds, looking up and down the river. Then she turned to her husband with an anxious expression upon her face.
"Do you suppose she's sunk, Sam'l?"
"Sunk; no. If she'd gone down, Eben would have come ashore in the tender. Mebbe he's managed to git her under way, an' taken her down river. Ye kin never tell what that boy might do. Jist scoot over an' ask John to go to the store an' phone to the city. Tell him to call up Jimmy Gault at Injuntown. He's a good friend of mine, an' he'll know if the 'Eb an' Flo's' down."
"Wait until after breakfast, Sam'l. The store won't be open yet.
How's your foot?"
"Pretty bad, Martha. But I guess it'll be all right if the 'Eb an' Flo's' safe. Give me me pipe, will ye? I'd like a smoke to soothe me nerves."
It seemed to the captain that the time would never pass until John returned from the store and reported that Eben had reached the city early that morning, and all was well.
"Thank the Lord!" the captain fervently exclaimed. "I kin rest in peace now. But I wonder how the boy done it. How in time he histed that sail is a mystery to me."
"Perhaps it was never lowered," his wife suggested. "You left it up, didn't you?"
"I know I did, but I saw it go down as sure as I'm alive. Then when I looked agin, it was up, an' the boat was adrift, making fer them mud flats. What d'ye think of that?"
"What do you suppose saved her from going aground, Sam'l?"
"It must have been the Lord, Martha. It was nuthin' more'n a miracle that kept that boat from goin' on hard an' fast. That boy could never have histed that sail alone an' taken the 'Eb an' Flo' down the river in sich a gale."
"Maybe there was an angel with him, Sam'l, such as stood with St. Paul long ago."
"Mebbe so, Martha. I've been thinkin' of that, an' it gives one a kind of comfortin' feelin', doesn't it?"
All day long the captain remained upon the sofa. His foot pained him a great deal, but he never complained. His wife tended him most faithfully, and never scolded him once. She was more gentle than he had ever known her to be, and when the paper arrived from the post office she read to him the news of the day. An article about the unsuccessful search for the body of Miss Randall was of the greatest interest, and Mrs. Tobin read it through very carefully. The captain listened attentively, expecting every minute to hear an expression of doubt as to the girl's death. He lay staring straight before him when his wife had finished. A feeling possessed him that he should tell Martha what he knew. It would relieve his mind, and at the same time explain the presence of the girl across the way. But would she keep the secret? or would she consider it her bounden duty to send word to the girl's parents? He was almost certain that she would take the latter course, and this made him hesitate.
As he was pondering over this, Mrs. Hampton and Jess Randall came to the house to see him. They were anxious to know how he was getting along, and Mrs. Hampton had brought a bottle of her choicest jam for his special benefit.
"It is sartinly good of yez to come," he told them. "Martha was entertainin' me by readin' the paper. It helps pass the time."
"I was just reading about that poor girl who drowned herself," Mrs.
Tobin explained. "Have you seen it, Miss?"
The girl's hands trembled slightly as she took the paper, and ran her eyes rapidly over the article. Her face turned somewhat pale as she read, and her heart beat fast. It was not the first time that the seriousness of the situation had come into her mind. But she had always excused herself by the justness of her cause. Any girl with the least spark of spirit would do the same, she reasoned. Her parents had no right to force her to marry a man she hated. But the thought of the men searching for her body was horrible. What would the papers say if the truth became known, as it surely would in time? She was much relieved, however, to learn that no one suspected that she was alive, not even her parents. Anyway, she had taken matters into her own hands, and she did not intend to turn back now. She longed to speak to the captain alone, and this opportunity was soon afforded when Mrs. Tobin took Mrs. Hampton into the garden to show her some special flowers. Thus the captain and Jess were left together for a few minutes.
"Oh, Captain, I want to thank you for your kindness," the girl impetuously began. "I was almost frightened out of my senses when I saw you last night."
"So I looked as bad as all that, did I?" The captain chuckled as he looked at his fair visitor. "No, Miss, I wouldn't give ye away. But I was afraid that Martha might pump the secret out of ye."
"And you will keep the secret, won't you?" the girl pleaded. "You will not tell anyone, not even your wife?"
"I'll try to, Miss," and the captain sighed. "But Eben knows, and I'm expectin' him home shortly. How did ye git that cut on yer head?" he suddenly asked.
"Why, don't you know?" and Jess looked her surprise. "A stone came through the window as John and I were sitting by that injured man at the quarry."
"But who threw the stone?"
"I have not the least idea. John wanted to have a search made at the quarry in order to find the one who did it. But I would not let him. I was afraid it would make too much talk, and it might get into the papers."
"D'ye intend to stay here, Miss?" the captain asked. "Yer dad's sure to know of yer whereabouts, even though ye call yerself Betty Bean. How in time did ye think of sich a name as that?"
Jess laughed, although her eyes expressed anxiety.
"I am afraid I cannot stay here long, Captain. But I wish I could.
Mrs. Hampton seems just like my own mother, she is so kind and loving.
Perhaps you will take me again on your boat. That is the safest place
I can think of now."
"I guess ye wouldn't find it very safe thar, Miss. It served as a refuge fer a time, but please don't try it on agin, unless ye want to git me into trouble."
Jess smiled, more at the peculiar expression on the captain's face than at his words of warning. She understood perfectly well what he meant, for she had met his wife. For a few seconds there was silence. Then the captain looked into the bright face before him, and his eyes twinkled.
"Say, Miss," he began, "I know a fine way out of yer difficulty. It's a great one, an' jist stuck me all of a sudden."
"You do! Oh, I knew you would help me."
"Yes, it's the only way I kin see," the captain continued. "It will keep yer parents from forcin' ye to marry that Lord's son. They can't touch ye if ye jist foller my advice."
"I will, Captain. Just tell me what to do."
"Git married."
"Oh!" The girl gave a great start, while her face crimsoned.
"Didn't expect that, eh?" and the captain chuckled. "Took ye kinder by surprise?"
"Indeed it did. And I'm afraid I can't take your advice. Why, I've run away to escape getting married."
"Ah, that's all right, Miss. Ye ran away to escape one man, but I guess thar's another ye won't run away from. Isn't that true? Thar now, ye needn't blush an' git all confused. I'm old enough to be yer grandfather, so ye needn't git upsot at what I say. I'm only speakin' fer yer good. Marry John Hampton, an' then ye won't have to worry any more about marryin' that Lord Stick-in-the-Mud. John's a real nice feller, an' I guess you like him as well as he likes you."
"But, Captain, I couldn't marry John," Jess protested. "In fact, he hasn't even asked me to marry him."
"He hasn't! John hasn't asked ye to marry him?" The captain's surprise and indignation were so great that he sat bolt upright. Then he sank back with a groan. "Blame that foot!" he growled. "I fergot all about it. An' no wonder. To think that John hasn't asked ye to marry him. What in thunder has he been doin', then?"
Before the girl could reply, the women returned, and in a few minutes she and Mrs. Hampton left the house. Jess was pleased at the interruption, for the conversation was becoming embarrassing. Nevertheless, she thought more of the captain for his friendly words of advice, and cherished them in the depth of her heart. She knew that they were true, and that to marry the man she loved would free her from all annoyance of Donaster.
There was great excitement the next day in the Tobin family when "The Daily Courier" arrived. It had a full account of the thrilling experience of rescuing the "Eb and Flo" at the brink of the falls. Mrs. Tobin read it aloud, while the captain and Flo listened with intense interest. At times the former interrupted with exclamations of surprise. He was more excited than his wife had ever seen him, and he could hardly restrain himself from leaping from the sofa and prancing around the room.
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" he thundered, when his wife had finished, and laid aside the paper. "Why in time didn't Eben tie up at some wharf instead of goin' through the Narrows when the tide was runnin' down? That boy hasn't enough brains to last him over night."
"Don't talk that way, Sam'l," his wife chided. "No doubt the poor boy was doing the best he could. He must have used his brains when he saved the boat from going on the mud flats."
"Sure, sure, Martha. Yer quite right. But, say, what a narrow squeeze that was! In another minute Eben an' the boat would have been into the falls, an', then, Good Lord!"
"Doesn't the paper say there were two men with him?" Flo asked. "Who were they, do you suppose?" The girl's face was pale, and she was greatly agitated.
"Yes, yes, it does say thar were two men, who left in a motor-boat," the captain replied. "Now, who were they? D'ye s'pose they were on the boat when the storm struck, an' helped Eben hist the sail? They must have been thar, fer that boy could never have histed that sail alone. Read it all over agin, Martha."
The Tobin family had now a great subject for conversation, which kept them talking and speculating for the rest of the day. Mrs. Tobin carried the paper to her neighbours across the way, and discussed it with them. Jess said very little, although she was doing some serious thinking. Two men were with Eben, and they had evidently been with him during the storm. Fearful as she was of being followed, she naturally concluded that they were in search of her. Perhaps there was a suspicion abroad that she had taken refuge on the "Eb and Flo," and had not drowned herself. She said nothing, however, about her fears, but listened to Mrs. Tobin as she enlarged upon the danger through which her son had passed.
All through the afternoon the captain kept a close watch upon the river. He felt sure that Eben would bring the boat back that day. His foot was not giving him so much trouble, and he longed to be up and doing. But his wife and daughter would not allow him to leave the sofa, notwithstanding his vigorous protests.
"I must git around, Martha," he said after a special rebuke by his wife for his lack of patience. "Me foot needs to be moved, or it'll be stiff to the end of me days."
"Don't you worry about that, Sam'l. A sprain needs rest, and you're going to stay right where you are."
The captain sighed as he tried to possess his soul in patience. But the time dragged heavily, and the "Eb and Flo" was nowhere in sight.
Supper was almost ready when Flo, happening to glance out of the window, gave a cry of joy.
"The boat's coming now, daddy!" she announced. "I'm sure it's the 'Eb and Flo.'"
"Is thar a big patch in the sail?" her father asked.
"Yes, I can see it quite plainly."
"Then it's her, Flo. Thank the Lord Eben's come at last. He's a great boy, that. Guess he'll amount to something after all. Ye'd better cut an extry slice of that ham, fer Eben'll have an appetite like a bear when he gits home."
CHAPTER XX
MRS. GRIMSBY'S MISSION
Mrs. Hampton had not the slightest doubt but that Jess Randall was her own daughter. It seemed like a strange dream at first from which she would suddenly awaken. The girl was all that she had imagined her daughter would be when grown up. How she longed to take her in her arms and claim her as her own! But, no, she must not do that now. What would Jess and John think of her? Would they not despise her for what she had done? It was almost beyond belief that a mother would sell her child for money.
No sleep came to Mrs. Hampton's eyes during the rest of the night, and when Jess was comfortably in bed and asleep the restless woman paced up and down her own room, racked with conflicting emotions. What should she do? she asked herself over and over again. She knew now that the girl had run away from home, and should she send her back? But how could she? That she must keep her at all cost, was the thought uppermost in her mind. She was her own child, a part of her very self. The girl had been wonderfully brought to her, and was it not a sign that she should stay? But what about the girl's foster parents? Could they claim her still?
Twice during the quiet morning hours Mrs. Hampton had stolen gently into the girl's room and stood watching her as she slept. She could see her plainly by the shaded lamp on the dresser. A deep feeling of pride and love welled up in her heart as she looked upon the fair, pure face. She was certain she could detect the father's features in forehead, mouth and chin. He had been a handsome man, and this girl resembled him in a marked degree.
During the second visit as she was about to leave the room Jess suddenly opened her eyes. Seeing Mrs. Hampton, a smile illumined her face.
"I have had such a beautiful dream," she said. "I dreamed that you were my mother, and that you were rescuing me from people who were trying to steal me away from you. Wasn't it funny?"
Mrs. Hampton gave a slight start, and looked searchingly into the girl's eyes. Then she knelt by her side and gave her a fervent kiss.
"Would you like to have me for your mother?" she asked.
"Would I! Oh, how glorious it would be! I have known you only a few hours, and yet you seem more like my mother than anyone I have ever met. You are so kind and loving, just what I have often longed my own mother to be like."
"She has been good to you, though, has she not?"
"Oh, yes. In a way she has been very good, though there was something lacking which I cannot explain. I never saw her look at me as you are looking at me now. I could never confide in her, nor go to her with my little troubles. She did not wish to be bothered. She was just as affectionate to our cat and dog as she was to me. But you are altogether different. I wonder why it is? I believe you really love me, and for love my heart has been longing for years."
"Then stay right here with us, dear," Mrs. Hampton replied, at the same time pressing the girl's hand in hers. "I want you to be my daughter, and I shall love you to your heart's content." She was going to add that John would, too, but she refrained. Just what understanding there was between the two she was not sure, although she had the feeling that they loved each other dearly.
"But suppose daddy finds me here and takes me home?" Jess asked. "I feel that I should get farther away. I must not go back to my old life. I want to be free, to make my own living, and then——" She hesitated, and paused while her face crimsoned.
"I know, dear. You want to marry the one you love. Isn't that it?"
"It is, but how did you guess it?"
"Oh, I was young once, and understand such things," Mrs. Hampton smilingly told her. "But, there, we must not talk any more now. I am sorry that I disturbed you. Sleep as long as you like."
This was but one of many conversations the two had during the next day. While John was at work about the place, Mrs. Hampton and Jess talked with each other, either in the kitchen or out upon the verandah. Thus the two were drawn closer together, and understood each other better than before. Then in the evening, when the day's work was done, John joined them. He was happier than he had ever been in his life, and as he went about his various tasks he could hardly believe it possible that the one girl in the whole world who meant everything to him was but a short distance away, awaiting his return.
The more Mrs. Hampton thought about Jess, the more determined she became that nothing should take her from her. She was her daughter, and she had the right to her, no matter what she had done in the past. If it came to the worst she would claim her as her own, tell the whole sad story, and bear whatever blame might fall upon her.
She thought over this during the next day, and the more she was with the girl the more she loved her. The fact that John's love was added to hers gave her much comfort. Nothing would please her better than to see them married. Then she would have both a son and a daughter. But would the girl's foster parents allow her to marry a man who was merely an ordinary country farmer? It was hardly likely, judging by their ambition to give her to the son of a Lord.
She was thinking of this as she worked in the kitchen, busily preparing supper. John and Jess had gone for a walk down to the river, expecting to be back in a short time. It was a beautiful evening, and as Mrs. Hampton watched them as they moved down across the field her heart filled with pride. She liked to see them together, for they were so happy, and seemed to be perfectly suited to each other.
When supper was ready, she went out upon the verandah to await their return. It was good to rest after the work of the day, and look out upon the river. Everything was full of peace, and if she could only bring herself in harmony with the world of nature how good it would be. The music of the birds, and the hum of bees sounded in her ears. But her brain was too much concerned about other affairs to enjoy the bright things around her. She felt restless, and a feeling of some impending calamity oppressed her. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, for she had rested very little the last two nights.
The click of the little gate aroused her, and looking up she saw a little woman walking up the path toward the house. The visitor was shabbily dressed, and she hurried along as if fearful of being followed. She was panting heavily by the time she was upon the verandah, and seemed about ready to drop from weariness.
"Why, Hettie!" Mrs. Hampton exclaimed, as she rose to receive her. "What is the matter? You look tired out. Sit here, while I get you some refreshment."
"No, no, I mustn't sit down," the visitor replied, as she glanced apprehensively around. "Gabe might come at any minute. He's everywhere, it seems to me, and has eyes like a hawk."
"Yon just sit down and rest," Mrs. Hampton ordered, leading the frightened woman to a chair. "Your husband will not touch you here. If he does, it won't be well for him."
"Oh, thank you, thank you, so much. But you don't know Gabe as well as
I do. He will kill me if he knows I've been here."
"Indeed he will do no such thing, Hettie. Sit here and calm your mind.
I shall be back in a minute."
Mrs. Hampton hurried into the house, and in short time returned, carrying a small tray, containing a glass of home-made wine, and a plate of cake. This she placed on a small table near the agitated woman.
"Drink this, dear, and try some of my cake. They will refresh you."
Almost mechanically Mrs. Grimsby did as she was bidden, while Mrs. Hampton watched her curiously, wondering as to the cause of her excitement.
"Do you feel better now?" she asked, as the visitor replaced the glass upon the tray.
"Thank you, I do feel refreshed. But I must not stay long, though it is so comfortable here."
Thrusting her hand into the bosom of her dress, she brought forth a roll of bills, and laid it on Mrs. Hampton's lap.
"There, that's all I could find," she whispered. "He must have spent the rest."
"Why, what is this?" Mrs. Hampton asked in surprise as she picked up the money."
"It is yours; the money that Gabe took from you. Oh, he is a villain, if ever there was one. And to think that he should come to you, of all women, and demand payment for silence. It's a wonder to me the Almighty doesn't smite him for his wickedness."
Mrs. Hampton now understood why this poor creature had visited her, and a deep respect and pity welled up in her heart.
"How did you know about this matter?" she asked.
"Oh, Gabe was boasting about it to me. He had been drinking, and when he is that way you never know what he will say. I took the money from him when he was asleep. He didn't miss it when he left home. But when he comes back there will be a terrible time."
"Where is he now?"
"In the city, where he likes to be, instead of staying home and attending to his work. He's not only a villain, but lazy as sin."
An anxious expression appeared in Mrs. Hampton's eyes as she listened to this tale of woe. She leaned over and touched her visitor on the arm.
"You say that your husband talks a great deal when he is drunk?" she asked.
"Yes, his tongue is never still unless he's asleep. It's awful the way he raves and swears at times."
"Hettie, do you suppose he will tell what he knows about what we did at the hospital."
"No, I'm quite sure he won't say a word about that," was the slow and thoughtful reply. "Gabe's as cunning as a fox, even when he's drunk."
"He told you about it, though."
"Ah, that's different. He knows that I understand all about it. But he won't say a word to anyone else. If he does, he won't get any more money. He's cute enough for that."
"And you think he will come to me for more money?"
"I am sure of it. He'll never let up until he drains you of the last cent, that is, if you let him. And you're not the only one."
"No?" Mrs. Hampton was becoming very curious now. "Does he work his game upon others?"
"I should say he does. There's another woman from whom he has got money, more than he got from you, and that's Mrs. Randall."
"Oh! Is she the—the woman who got my baby?"
"The very one. And Gabe was to her before he came to you. That's the way he's been acting, the villain."
Mrs. Hampton was silent for a few seconds. Her heart was beating fast. Now she knew for certain that Jess Randall was her own child. The last vestige of doubt had at last been removed.
"Why didn't you tell me this before, Hettie?" she asked.
"Tell you what?"
"That you were the Hettie Rawlins who was at the hospital when I was there, and that it was Mrs. Randall who got my baby."
"Because you didn't ask me. You never mentioned that affair, so I thought you had forgotten, or didn't want to speak about it."
"No, Hettie, I had not forgotten it. But I did not know it was you who exchanged the babies. I saw you only a few times at the hospital, and when I again met you years later as Mrs. Grimsby I did not recognise you. Oh, what would I not give to undo that terrible deed I committed! I must have been crazy to sell my baby for money."
"And I a fool for what I did. But I must have been entirely out of my mind when I told Gabe anything. I kept the secret for years, and then in one unguarded moment I let a few words slip from my lips. Gabe threatened my life, and gave me no peace until I told him all. I could not help it. If you only knew what a life I lead you would understand. Can you ever forgive me?"
"There is really nothing to forgive, Hettie," was Mrs. Hampton's sad reply. "I am the one who needs forgiveness, not only from you but from the child I so heartlessly sold. Did you ever see her?"
"No, not to my knowledge. But I understand her life was not happy, and so the poor thing drowned herself to escape from her misery. You have heard the news, I suppose?"
"Yes. There has been a great deal about it in the papers. Her body has not been found, has it?"
Mrs. Hampton tried to speak as unconcernedly as possible, and if Mrs. Grimsby had not been so much taken up with her own troubles she might have wondered why any mother could speak so coolly about the death of her own daughter, even though she had not seen her since she was a baby.
"No, her body has not been found yet, though men are searching for it all the time, so I understand," the visitor explained.
"Do her parents, I mean the Randalls, feel very badly about her death,
Hettie?"
"In a way I suppose they do. But I have heard that they are more angry than anything else. Their minds were so set upon the girl marrying that Lord's son that they are greatly disappointed. I admire her for what she did. I wish I had done the same myself before I married Gabe Grimsby. My life has been a living death ever since. But, there, I have talked too long. I must hurry away home. I hope Gabe will never know that I have been here. He must think that he lost that money."
"You are not going to walk home, Hettie," Mrs. Hampton told her. "John will be back shortly, and he will take you in his car. It is too long a walk."
"But I must. You don't understand. What if Gabe comes home and finds me gone?"
"Where is he now, did you say?"
"In the city, so I believe."
"Very well, then, most likely he will stay there a few hours. If he comes, it will be on the 'Oconee,' and John can get you home before that. So you must stay. Come, let me take off your hat."
After considerable persuasion, Mrs. Hampton induced her visitor to remain. Then she went into the kitchen and placed the supper upon the table. She could not understand what was keeping John and Jess so long. Anyway, she and Hettie would have their tea, and the young people could have theirs by themselves. She believed that Hettie might feel somewhat embarrassed in the presence of Jess, owing to her shabby appearance.
They had just finished their supper, and were about to rise from the table when John entered the room. At the first sight of him Mrs. Hampton gave a cry of fright and rose to her feet. His forehead was marked with blood, and the face of the girl following him was as white as death.
CHAPTER XXI
EBEN COMES ASHORE
As John and Jess made their way slowly down to the shore their hearts were free and happy. They were together, and that was all sufficient. Everything in nature was in harmony with their feelings. Birds chirped and flitted about them; butterflies zigzagged here and there, and bees hummed industriously among the flowers. The air was balmy, and a gentle breeze drifted in from the west. Jess stopped and looked out upon the river with kindling eyes.
"Oh, what a glorious day," she remarked. "It is so good to be in a place such as this."
"I am glad you like it," John replied, as he glanced at the bright face by his side. "I wish you could stay here always."
"So do I. The country suits me better than anywhere else."
"You would miss the city life, would you not, if you lived here all the year?"
"What would I miss in the city? A continual round of social events, of which I am more than tired, and going here and there in a vain effort to find happiness. I long to be free in the highest sense, and not to be chained to a system which to me is deadening."
"You certainly put your belief into practice when you ran away from home. I am glad you do not regret it."
"No, I have not the least regret. If I felt that my parents are mourning for me I would feel badly. But they treated me so cruelly in trying to force me to marry the man I hate, that I do not care how they feel."
"But suppose they find out where you are and compel you to go home?"
"They may find me, but they cannot make me go back. I have tasted the joy of freedom from their rule, and shall henceforth think and act for myself. You may consider me ungrateful, but if you knew what my life has been like you would not blame me."
They had reached the border of a grove of small trees, and here in an old fence wild flowers flourished in abundance and ran riot over the moss-covered poles. Jess stooped, picked a wild rose, and inhaled its sweet fragrance. John, watching, thought he had never beheld a more perfect picture of beauty, grace and maidenly charm. His soul thrilled within him, and moving impulsively forward, he took the rose from her hand, and placed it gently in her hair. He smiled as he stepped back to view the effect.
"Excuse me," he apologised, "but I could not help it. That is the place for the rose; it makes you look great."
Then he caught her by the hand and led her down the narrow path which led to the water. Nearby stood a large tree, with great outspreading branches, and under this they stopped, John's heart was beating fast, while the girl's face almost equalled the rose in colour. The world and its cares were forgotten as they stood there on that bright summer afternoon. They were living in a world of their own, for love had cast its mystic charm over their young lives.
"Why need you leave this place?" John suddenly asked. "Why not stay here always? I want you, and must have you? Would you not be happy here with me?"
He was still holding her hand, which he now pressed more firmly than ever. How he longed to take the girl in his arms, and imprint a kiss upon her rosy lips. He wanted to confess to her his great love, and to hear her tell of hers. But she did not at once reply. Her face, from which some of the colour had fled, was turned toward the river, and her hand trembled.
"Don't you know that I love you?" John impetuously insisted. "Can't you feel it in my every word and act? I love you as I never believed it possible to love any woman."
Then Jess looked into his eyes, and the expression the young man saw there filled his heart with joy.
"You do love me," he cried, "and you will be mine. Oh, tell me so!"
"Yes, John, I do love you," Jess slowly replied. "I love you more than words can tell. But we must wait a while. I am a runaway girl, you know, and I must not bring disgrace upon your family."
"Disgrace! I do not understand you. How could you bring disgrace upon mother and me?"
Jess smiled as she gently freed her hand, and plucked a leaf from the branch of a small tree. This she twirled in her fingers, and then tore it into bits, dropping each piece separately upon the ground.
"There is my answer," she said, in a voice that was low but full of emotion. "What I have done to that innocent leaf people will do to me when they find out what I have done. They will not spare me any more than I have spared that leaf. They will take my life and rend it asunder bit by bit. They will hear about my experiences on the 'Eb and Flo'; that a mishap befell me at the quarry; that I was taken away in the dead of night, and kept hidden by a young man so that my parents could not find me. I know what construction they will put upon all this, and no matter how much I might explain it will make no difference. I will be looked upon as a girl who has gone astray, and will be held in contempt by all. Oh, I know how it will be, for I remember how people talked about a girl who did something not half so daring as mine, and she was never forgiven. Her character was torn into shreds by cruel tongues."
"But what has all this to do with our love?" John asked. "I don't care what people say. In fact, I will face the whole world, and if I hear anyone breathe a word against you it won't be well for him."
"I know you would do what you could, John, but not likely you would ever have the chance. What could you do against the many conversations where my name and deed will be introduced. And in what a subtle manner judgment will be pronounced, 'Poor girl; isn't it too bad?' 'How hard on her parents!' That is the way most people will refer to me, though some will express their views in no uncertain language. I have heard it before, and know just what to expect."
"But, Jess, why need we care what they say?" John insisted. "We can be happy together. Our love will make up for everything else."
"Yes, I know that, John. But until this storm blows over, and I am condemned and forgotten it is better for us to remain just as we are. I must get away from here and do something."
"You're not going to leave, Jess. You must stay right here."
But the girl shook her head. Her face was very serious, and her eyes shone with the light of determination.
"I must go, John," she said. "Should my father find me here, he will make my life unbearable. He will try to force me to go back, and the only way to prevent that would be for me to do what people think I have already done." A tremour shook her body, and her eyes grew big with a nameless fear.
"Your father shall not take you back," John declared. "And you must not do what you suggest. That would be terrible! There is another way out of the difficulty, and you know what that is."
"Yes, I know, John. The captain spoke of it yesterday."
"He did! Good for him. He is a man of sense, all right. And won't you, Jess? We can get married, and then no one can take you from me."
Jess remained silent for a few minutes, with her face turned to the river, shimmering in the glow of eventide.
"We must wait, John," she at length replied. "We are both young yet, so there need be no hurry. Should we get married now, I know that my father would make every effort to separate us, even though I have the right to do as I please. He is a very determined man, and when he once makes up his mind it is almost impossible to stop him. When he finds out what I have done his anger will be great. But what would it be like should I marry you? No, we must wait. I shall go away and hide myself."
"You cannot do that, Jess. I am afraid you know very little about the world. Why, what could you do to make a living? You have been well educated, but what could you do to earn enough to live upon? You have always had plenty of money for all your needs; you have led a sheltered life, so you cannot understand the struggle it would mean to go out into the world to battle your own way. Now, is there one thing you could really do to earn a living?"
"I don't know, John," was the low reply. There were tears in the girl's eyes, for she realised that the words of advice were only too true, "I am afraid you are right. I did not look at it that way."
"I know you didn't, so that is why I have spoken so plainly. It would be cruel not to open your eyes and show you the difficulties ahead."
"What am I to do, then?" the girl asked, in a despairing voice. "We must not marry each other now. But what can I do? Where can I go?"
For a few minutes silence reigned, as the two stood there. John was thinking rapidly, and at last he turned to the girl with the light of a new idea shining in his eyes.
"I know what we can do," he told her. "We can hide you where your father cannot find you for some time. There is a place out in the hills where you can stay, and no one will have any idea where you are. Mother can go with you, and it will do her so much good, for she needs to get away for a change. We have a nice cabin there, which father built. It is on a little island, in a beautiful lake, and I know you will enjoy the life. You see, we have a coal mine on the shore of the lake, and that is why father built the cabin. He used to live there for weeks at a time. But since his death it has been occupied but little; although I sometimes spend several days there when out hunting."
The expression in the girl's eyes showed her interest in John's words, and when he stopped she lifted her face to his.
"But what about you?" she asked. "How will you get along without your mother?"
"Oh, I shall live there, too, part of the time," John laughingly explained. "You will not get clear of me as easily as all that. I shall have to attend to the farm, but having the car, I can run out and back in a short time. Perhaps you will see too much of me when you and mother set up housekeeping in the wilderness."
"I think it will be splendid!" Jess exclaimed. "I have often wanted to live just such a life as you describe. And having your mother with me, and you visiting us often, what more could one ask?"
"And just think of the delightful hours you and mother can spend upon the lake, or walking through the woods. And during the evenings and on wet days you will have books and magazines, for I shall keep you well supplied with reading matter. In fact, there are a good many books already in the cabin, for father was a great reader."
"When can we go, John?" Jess was all eager now for the adventure.
"We shall have to speak to mother first. I know that she will enter enthusiastically into our scheme."
"Then we had better go back to the house at once. We told her we would be away but a short time, and we have forgotten all about our promise."
"Mother won't mind," John replied. "She likes to see us happy, and she understands."
They stepped out from beneath the tree upon the narrow path, and as they did so a sound upon the river attracted their attention. Glancing in that direction, they saw a small row-boat coming toward them. There was one person on board, pulling at the oars with long, steady strokes.
"Why, it is Eben!" John exclaimed. "And there's the 'Eb and Flo' lying at anchor. It's a wonder we didn't hear some sound before."
"Suppose we wait here until Eben comes ashore," Jess suggested. "It will give him a great surprise. I have not seen him since the truck ran off the track at the quarry."
It took Eben but a few minutes to reach the land and pull up the boat. He then straightened himself up, and was about to move up the path when he caught sight of the two standing before him. In a twinkling the expression upon his face changed, and his eyes gloved with the light of jealousy and hatred.
"Come on up, Eben," Jess invited. "We're waiting for you."
With a bound the youth did as he was bidden, and in another minute he was standing before the two, with his fists doubled, and a defiant look upon his face.
"Why, Eben, what's the matter?" Jess asked, shrinking back in fear.
The boy, however, was not looking at her, but at John.
"I hate you!" he cried. "I will kill you!"
"What do you mean?" John sternly asked. "What have I done to you?"
"You stole her from me," and Eben motioned to the girl.
"Oh, I see," and John laughed. "Come, Jess, we had better go home.
Eben is jealous, and I don't want to fight a duel here."
Like a flash the maddened youth stooped, seized a stick lying near, and hurled a savage blow at John's head. Quick as lightning the latter dodged, and although he managed to escape the full force of the blow, one end of the stick grazed his forehead, inflicting a long gash. It staggered him for an instant, but recovering, he leaped toward his assailant. With a gurgling cry of baffled defeat, Eben turned and fled down the path, along the shore, and disappeared amid the trees.
Blood was now flowing from the wound in John's forehead as he stood and stared in the direction Eben had gone. Then he turned to his companion.
"This explains something which has been puzzling me," he began. "I know now who threw the stone which hit you on the head. It was intended for me, but it struck you instead."
"Oh, do you think so?" the girl asked. "I am greatly surprised at
Eben. I had no idea he would do such a thing."
"H'm, one need never be surprised at anything he does. He's always been a mystery to me, and to everybody else, I guess."
Drawing forth his handkerchief, he wiped the blood from his forehead.
This action aroused Jess.
"Forgive me," she pleaded, "I should have been caring for you instead of standing here doing nothing. Come down to the river, and let me bathe your wound. Does it pain you much?"
"Just a scratch," John replied, as he walked along by her side. "It might have finished me, though. It was meant for a knock-out blow. I shall have to settle with that young fool. He must be taught a lesson."
"Oh, don't do anything to him," Jess begged. "He will get over his anger in time. Isn't it strange that he should be so jealous?"
"I don't blame him. If I were in his place I would feel just the same."
The girl understood his meaning, and for an instant a smile dispelled the serious expression upon her face.
"But you wouldn't try to kill a man, would you?" she asked. "You have more sense."
"It is hard to tell what I might do if anyone tried to take you from me."
John was kneeling close to the water now, and the girl was bathing his wound. How delightful it was to feel her gentle touch, and to know that she was so near! It was worth while being injured to have such attention from the one he loved.
For a few minutes Jess held the handkerchief to his forehead. But the blood still flowed, so they decided to go back to the house as quickly as possible, and, have it properly dressed.
"Mother is a fine hand at doing up wounds," John explained. "She is as good as any doctor or nurse."
They walked as fast as possible up the path, and when they at length left this to cross the field, Mrs. Tobin suddenly appeared at the front door of her house.
"Have you seen Eben?" she called.
John stopped short in his tracks, and for an instant he was tempted to tell this woman about her son's cowardly attack. He resisted the longing, however, and merely informed her that Eben was down on the shore, and no doubt would be home shortly.
"It is just as well for her not to know what that boy has done," he confided to Jess, as they continued on their way. "It wouldn't do any good, and the less said about it the better."
"And don't let us say anything about what happened at the quarry, John.
I feel certain now that Eben threw the stone which hit me."
"There is no doubt about it," was the emphatic reply. "I won't say a word now, but that young rascal must be taught a lesson. He needs to be severely punished for what he has done."