"Say, Eben, I was almost asleep. I didn't rest well last night."

"What was the trouble, Gabe? Why couldn't ye sleep?"

"Thoughts, boy, thoughts. I was thinking about Donaster."

"H'm, it's no wonder ye couldn't sleep with that skunk in yer mind. Couldn't ye find something better to think about?"

"I suppose so, but I didn't want to. Ye see, he's anxious for me to find Miss Randall for him. Then when she's found, to make a show of kidnapping her, or getting her into a dangerous place, so he can come along and rescue her. See?"

An amused expression shone in Eben's eyes as he turned them upon the face of the reclining man.

"Something like a movin'-picture show, eh?" he queried. "A pretty girl, villains, an' hero all made to order. Ho, ho, that's a good one."

"Seems so. And I guess he wants us to be the villains, Eben. Suppose we try it, boy. It'd be great fun, wouldn't it?"

Eben thought for a few minutes, and then he brought his right hand down upon his thigh with a resounding whack.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed, much excited. "It's jist the thing."

"What is it, lad?"

"An idea, an' we kin work it, too. It'll be great fun."

"Out with it, then."

"S'pose we give Donaster a big scare. I know a dandy place back in the hills where we kin take him. It's an island in a lake, an' there's a cabin there, too. It belongs to the Hamptons. John an' his mother often go out there to look after a coal mine Mr. Hampton found. Ye've heard of it, haven't ye?"

"Sure. I guess everybody knows about it. I understand it's good coal, too."

"Y' bet it, an' Mr. Hampton spent every cent he had in buyin' the land before he let on he had found the coal. John an' his mother hope to make a lot of money out of it. I know the place well."

"But what has this to do with Donaster?" Grimsby asked. "Keep to your story, Eben."

"I'm comin' to that if ye give me time. Now, s'pose we make Donaster think that Miss Randall is hidin' out there on that island with the Hamptons. Let's send fer him, take him there, give him the slip, an' do a few other things to scare him. I'd like to hear him yell fer a while. He can't git off the island till we go fer him. Oh, it'd be great fun."

"It certainly would," Grimsby replied. "But you'll have to do it, Eben. When could you go?"

"To-morrow, I guess. I'm goin' to stay home this trip, an' let dad take the boat to the quarry. You git Donaster, an' I'll take him out. But you'll have to come along, too, Gabe. I won't go without you. I might want help."

After some hesitation, Grimsby decided to go. He did not fancy the jaunt, but he favoured the idea, and if Eben would not go without him, there was nothing else for him to do but to go along. He could phone for Donaster in the morning, and he knew that the fellow would come at once.

This was what Grimsby told Eben, and he smiled to himself as he glanced at the unsuspecting lad at the wheel. He was playing into his hands, and he felt perfectly sure of him now. His next move was with Miss Randall and John Hampton. He was silent a long time as the boat glided on her way. Eben thought he was half asleep, but in reality he was very much awake, revolving in his mind a scheme which had been suggested by the mention of the coal mine near Island Lake. The more he thought it over, the more pleased he became, and by the time they came in sight of his house, he had the plan pretty well worked out.

"Guess you'd better let me off at my own shore," he remarked.

"Why, I thought ye was goin' home with me," Eben replied.

"I did intend to. But I'd like to visit my own family first. I haven't seen them for several days. I'll be on hand with Donaster to-morrow, so you be all ready."

In less than a half hour Eben rounded up the "Eb and Flo" near the shore in front of the Grimsby house, which was a poor, ramshackle affair. The water here was deep, so he was able to run close to the bank. A long-haired, ragged, dirty boy pushed off for his father in a leaky boat, and took him ashore. In a few minutes more the "Eb and Flo" was again under way, clipping along under the light breeze, bound for Beech Cove several miles beyond.



CHAPTER XIV

ANOTHER VICTIM

The garden in front of the Hampton cottage was at its best on a bright summer afternoon. As Mrs. Hampton stood in the midst of the flowers, her eyes shone with pride. She was very much at home here, and loved each flower, from the delicate, fragrant mignonette to the gaily-coloured, boisterous tiger-lily. The fence surrounding the garden was lost in a wealth of vines, chief among which was the morning-glory, whose vase-shaped blossoms were drooping sleepily beneath the sun's hot glare.

Close to the garden ran the main highway, and at times Mrs. Hampton lifted her head and looked longingly down the road as if expecting someone. She was a woman of generous mould, and graceful bearing, scarcely past the meridian of life. It was not age which had whitened her hair, and years of toil had not stamped the furrows upon her brow, nor fixed the sad expression in her clear blue eyes. Something more subtle than the silent alchemy of time had wrought the change, and of this Mrs. Hampton was thinking now.

The click of the garden gate startled her, and turning quickly she saw Gabriel Grimsby, hot and dust-laden coming toward her. His face was beaming as usual, but more sunburnt, and he was mopping his forehead with a big red handkerchief. Mrs. Hampton smiled as she held out a hand of welcome.

"I am glad to see you, Gabriel," she accosted. "It has been a long time since you were here. Busy, I suppose?"

"Very. My, it's hot!" he panted, as he again wiped his brow. "I never felt the heat so much before. It must be ninety in the shade."

"Hardly that," and Mrs. Hampton smiled. "Come up on the verandah, Gabriel. I think you will find it nice and cool there."

Grimsby at once followed Mrs. Hampton out of the garden, and up the steps to the spacious verandah, where he sank at once into a comfortable chair.

"This is great!" he exclaimed. "You are fortunate in having such a beautiful spot."

"You are tired, Gabriel. Just rest yourself. I shall be back shortly."

Grimsby smiled contentedly when Mrs. Hampton had gone, and looked curiously around.

"The Hamptons must be doing well," he mused. "House newly painted, farm in good condition, and garden the finest I have seen. They must have a snug bank-account from all appearance. And why shouldn't they? If there was a brood of kids to feed, such as I have, it would make a great difference. Maybe they've made good with that coal mine. Anyway, I guess I've struck this place about the right time. People who have plenty should help them who haven't much. This is certainly restful after that long walk. I wonder where John is."

His meditation was interrupted by Mrs. Hampton's return. She carried a tray containing a glass of home-made wine, and a plate of frosted doughnuts. Grimsby was all alert now, and smiling blandly.

"This is certainly good of you, madame," he remarked as he took the glass, and one of the doughnuts. "It's not often I get treated this way, especially when I call on business."

"What are you doing these days, Gabriel?" Mrs. Hampton asked as she placed the plate of doughnuts upon a flower-shelf near at hand, and seated herself upon the verandah steps.

Grimsby sipped the wine, and bit off a piece of his doughnut before replying. Then he looked at his hostess in a quizzical manner.

"Don't you know my business, madame?"

"I am afraid not, Gabriel, as you have been at so many different things during the last few years. I hope you have settled down to something steady for the sake of your family, at least."

"You need not worry at all about me now," and Grimsby's eyes twinkled. He was thinking of the surprise he had in store for this woman, so he could take her words with good grace. "But money isn't everything, madame. Just think of that poor girl who drowned herself last night at Benton's wharf. She had all the good things of life, and yet she was not happy."

"What girl?" Mrs. Hampton asked. "I haven't heard about her."

"No, I suppose not. I only learned the news this morning. Men are now dragging the river for her body."

"It is certainly sad. Who is she? and why did she drown herself?"

"She is the only daughter of Randall, the big lumber merchant. Her father and mother wanted her to marry some young Lord, Donaster I think is his name. But she objected, so when they insisted, she took the matter into her own hands and made an end to her young life. So you see, madame, money isn't everything, is it?"

"Was she quite young?" Mrs. Hampton asked, unheeding Grimsby's question.

"About twenty, so I understand. And very pretty, too. I have seen her two or three times. She was very much sought after by young men, and a great favourite in society, so I have been told."

"How did she drown herself?"

"Went out in a boat, so I believe, and jumped overboard. They found the boat adrift down river this morning, and her hat was picked up along the shore. That's about all I know."

"Dear me, this is very sad," and Mrs. Hampton sighed. "I suppose John will know more about the affair when he comes home. Help yourself to the doughnuts, Gabriel."

"Thanks, madame. They are delicious. Your son is not at home, then?"

"No. He went to the city yesterday, and I am expecting him at any minute."

"What a big, fine-looking fellow he is getting to be, madame. I saw him the other day, and was surprised at the way he has grown. He's a great worker, too, so I hear."

"Yes, John is a good boy, Gabriel. He is a great comfort to me."

"Better than a daughter, eh?" As Grimsby asked the question he noted that Mrs. Hampton gave a slight start, and it pleased him. "A girl wouldn't be much use on a farm such as this," he continued. "I suppose he's doing something with that coal mine, too."

"It's the mine that took him to the city. The prospects are very encouraging, so I am anxious to hear how he has made out."

"A daughter, then, wouldn't be able to carry on such work, would she, madame?"

"I suppose not," was the somewhat slow reply. "But why do you ask? Why do you mention a daughter to me?"

"Why shouldn't I? You have a daughter, haven't you?"

At these words Mrs. Hampton's face turned white. She rose to her feet, her whole body trembling, and confronted Grimsby.

"What do you mean?" she gasped. "Why do you ask whether I have a daughter?"

"It's true, though, isn't it? There, now, don't get so worked up. You seem to take my simple question very much to heart."

With her hand pressing her side, Mrs. Hampton stood staring upon the placid man before her. What does he know? she asked herself. Why did he mention a daughter to me?

"I see I am not far astray, madame. You have a daughter, and it is concerning her that I am here."

"Oh!" It was all that the woman could say, but the tone in which it was uttered clearly expressed the agony of her soul.

"Yes, madame, you understand now my business. For some time I tried to enlighten people's minds by supplying them with good literature. But business is dull these days, so I have been forced to turn to something else for a living for me and mine. And I must say that this new business pays much better. I am a stand-between, and in that capacity I am here to-day."

"A stand-between! I do not know what you mean."

"Quite true, madame. It is hard for you, living so comfortably, to understand how difficult it is for some people to stand between those they love and poverty. I fear I have not done very well along that line in the past, though I am improving now."

"But what has all this to do with my daughter, of whom you speak?" Mrs. Hampton somewhat impatiently asked. "What right have you even to suggest that I have a daughter."

"Can you deny it?"

"Yes, I do."

"Madame! I am surprised at you."

"You need not be at all surprised, sir. I had a daughter once, but she has been dead for many years."

"Ah, madame, dead to you, perhaps, but not to others. Have you forgotten that?"

For a few seconds Mrs. Hampton tried to maintain her composure. But the strain was too much upon her, so sinking down upon the steps, she buried her face in her hands. Grimsby was by no means affected by the woman's distress. He rather enjoyed it. He knew now that she was in his power. Drawing forth a package of cigarettes, he selected one, lighted it, and smoked in silent contentment. He had often seen his wife in just such a situation, so it was nothing new to him.

At length Mrs. Hampton lifted her head and looked at Grimsby. There were tears in her eyes, and her face was drawn and white. The comfortable, self-satisfied man annoyed her, and a wave of indignation swept upon her.

"Why have you come here to-day to torment me?" she asked.

"Torment you! In what way?"

"By your words of insinuation."

"Are they not true?"

"Suppose I deny them?"

"It would be no use, madame. I have all the necessary proof."

"Of what?"

"Don't you know? Do you wish me to tell what happened in a private hospital, twenty years ago, and how you exchanged——"

"Stop, stop! For God's sake, don't say any more!"

"You acknowledge it all, then?"

"How can I deny it? But who told you?"

"Madame," and Grimsby flicked the ashes from his cigarette as he spoke, "when a man has a wife such as mine, sooner or later he learns many interesting things."

"Your wife! What does she know?"

"Evidently too much for your peace of mind."

"But how does she know?"

"Simply because she happened to be Hettie Rawlins before she became Mrs. Grimsby."

"Hettie Rawlins," Mrs. Hampton repeated. "That name sounds familiar. Where have I heard it before?"

"In that private hospital, madame. She was the girl who exchanged the babies. Surely you have not forgotten her."

"Oh, now I do remember. And she is your wife?"

"She is, unfortunate for her."

"This is all new to me."

"Strange that you should forget her, isn't it?"

"Not at all, I knew her only slightly at the hospital, as she was seldom in my room."

"But long enough to transact a very important business matter, eh?"

"Yes, yes, too long! May God have mercy upon me for my sin! It is almost more than I can stand."

"But you have stood it well all these years, madame."

"You think so, do you? But you little know what agony of soul I have endured. Oh, it has been terrible!"

"H'm," Grimsby grunted, "it seems to me you have had many compensations, such as the money you received, a fine place like this, a good son, you call your own, and the prospect of making considerable out of your coal mine. Surely they have been a balm to your heart and mind. They would be to mine, anyway."

"No, no, no!" the woman declared. "Nothing can ever take the place of my own sweet baby I so rashly bartered away. I thought so once, fool that I was, but I know better now. No matter how dear another child may become, and John means much to me, it is not one's own flesh and blood. No one but a mother who has suffered can fully understand this. During the twenty years that have passed since my fatal mistake, my baby girl has been ever with me. If alive, she is a young woman now. She goes by some other name, and calls another woman 'mother.' She does not know of my existence, and even if she heard my name or met me face to face, I would mean nothing to her."

Mrs. Hampton ceased, and looked out over the rippling surface of the noble St. John. Far down the river her eyes caught the gleam of a white sail, bending to the gentle breeze. She knew that the boat must be the "Eb and Flo," for Mrs. Tobin had called that morning and told her that she was expecting her son and husband home. But it meant nothing to her, neither was she aware of a slight graceful girl standing by the captain's side, asking questions about the various places along the river. Had she but known, how soon her look of indifference would have vanished.

"So you have no knowledge, then, as to your—your daughter's whereabouts?" It was Grimsby speaking, and it aroused her from her reverie.

"None at all. I do not even know the name of the woman who got my baby."

"She was very wealthy, I suppose?"

"I believe so, but——" She suddenly stopped, and an expression of hope leaped into her eyes. "Tell me, do you know where she is? Your wife must know, anyway."

She waited almost breathlessly for a reply, but when Grimsby smiled and shook his head, the light of hope faded from her eyes.

"You don't know?" she asked in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

"I didn't say that, madame. Maybe I know and maybe I don't. But what good would it do if I should tell where she is? You could not get her back again, no matter how hard you might try. And, besides, she wouldn't want to come. She has been brought up to a life of luxury of which you know nothing. She moves in high social circles, and would be ashamed of you. Suppose she should find out that you are her mother, what would she think if she learned how you sold her for money when she was a helpless baby? Have you thought of that?"

"Stop, stop! For God's sake don't say any more!" the unhappy woman pleaded. "It is all too true, but I can hardly bear it. I know she would scorn me for what I did. But it would be a comfort if I could look upon her, see her face, and know that she is my child. If I could but feast my eyes upon her even for a few minutes, it would mean everything to me."

"No, madame, you are mistaken. If you saw her once it would make you more dissatisfied than ever. It would only add to your agony of soul, of which you speak."

"So you won't tell me, Gabriel?"

"No, I must not."

"Then why have you come here to-day to torment me? Why have you mentioned my child to me? I believe you know where she is, and yet you will not tell me. What is the meaning of all this?"

"Ah, now you are coming to the point," and Grimsby smilingly rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. "I have a definite purpose in coming to see you to-day. I felt that I could not delay any longer. It is a mere matter of business, nothing more."

"Has it anything to do with the mine, Gabriel?"

"Oh, not at all. It is far more important to you than that. It has to do with something that happened twenty years ago. There, now, madame, keep calm. Don't get excited. I see you understand to what I refer, and that is good. Now, how would you like for that to be known?"

"Heavens, man! Are you in earnest? Surely you must be joking."

"Not at all. I was never more in earnest in my life. I merely asked if you would like the above-mentioned transaction made public. That is all I wish to know."

"No, no; it must not be mentioned. For almost twenty years it has been kept a secret, and why should the public know of it now? It would break my heart. I could never face anyone again. And John, who is so dear to me, what would he think? How could I explain? It must not be! You will not tell, will you?"

Grimsby lighted another cigarette, crossed his legs, and smoked contentedly. He was quite satisfied, so could afford to take his time. This woman's trouble was nothing to him, and no accusing conscience worried him in the least degree. He was past all that.

"I shall not tell, madame," he at length replied, "that is, providing you make it worth while."

"In what way, Gabriel? What can I do to obtain your silence?"

"There is only one thing that will perform the charm. It has seldom failed. I believe it is still powerful to silence tongues. It will keep mine still, at any rate. Is it hard to guess what that is? You should know of all women, for it proved effective twenty years ago."

Mrs. Hampton started, and looked keenly into the face of the man before her.

"Do you mean money?" she asked. "Is that what will silence your tongue?"

"Ah, I am glad that you have guessed it, madame. It will save unnecessary talk. Yes, it is money, for it is money I need more than anything else."

"Gabriel Grimsby! I cannot believe this of you. I always considered you a man above such things. Are you willing to take money for keeping silent? Would you not be afraid to use it?"

"Afraid! Of what, pray?"

"Of what might happen. Money obtained in such a way never does any good."

"Are you speaking from experience, madame? It was not so in your case, I believe."

Mrs. Hampton made no reply. Her eyes dropped, and, her face flushed. Grimsby knew that the thrust had gone home, and he again smiled.

"You understand, I see," he continued. "That is the only thing, madame, which will cause me to keep your secret."

"And if I don't give you anything?"

"You will have to take the consequences. Are you willing to do that?"

"No, no! This must never be known. How much do you want? Tell me quick, and let us get through with this terrible business."

"I am quite as anxious as you are, madame. The amount depends upon how much you are prepared to give."

"You want me to mortgage this place, I suppose. You will not be satisfied with a small amount."

"Indeed I shall. Surely you must have some money on hand now. That will be sufficient for the present. Then, when you sell your mine, you might remember your benefactor."

"Benefactor! Robber you should say," Mrs. Hampton indignantly retorted. "To think that I should be held up by such a person as you. But it cannot be helped, I suppose. Will one hundred dollars satisfy you? It is all I have."

Grimsby bowed, and waved his hand in an eloquent manner.

"It will be very acceptable to me just now. One hundred dollars! It seems like a fortune to me. It will do nicely."

Mrs. Hampton rose to her feet, and remained for a few seconds thoughtfully silent. Then she turned toward Grimsby.

"If I give you this money, Gabriel, how can I trust you to keep this secret?"

"I give you my word of honour, madame. Bring the Bible, and I shall swear by it."

Mrs. Hampton gave a deep sigh as she turned toward the door of the house. "I am afraid, Gabriel, that your word of honour isn't worth much, and that the Bible wouldn't make any difference. However, I suppose I shall have to trust you. Just wait a minute."

Grimsby was greatly pleased with himself now. His eyes were turned toward the river, fixed upon the white sail which was much nearer. He had accomplished his object easier than he had expected. In a short time Mrs. Hampton returned, and handed him a roll of bills.

"There, you will find the full amount," she quietly told him. "It is all I have in the house. I hope you are satisfied."

Grimsby was about to speak, when a raucous toot of an auto down the road caused Mrs. Hampton to turn suddenly. At once her face went very white, and she laid her hand heavily upon the man's arm.

"It's John!" she gasped. "Leave at once!"

In an instant Grimsby was on his feet. He seized his hat, leaped down the steps, rushed toward the gate, and was walking rapidly down the road as the car sped up. The driver hailed him in passing. He waved in reply, and then hurried on his way. Grimsby was not anxious to meet John Hampton just then.



CHAPTER XV

TWO WOMEN'S TROUBLES

After stopping his car before the cottage, John Hampton alighted and gave a quick glance toward the "Eb and Flo," now abreast of Beech Cove. He then turned, opened the gate, and hurried up the path to the house. His every movement was expressive of abounding health and buoyant vitality. As Mrs. Hampton met him on the verandah, her eyes kindled with pride. He was so big and manly, and his bronzed, clean-shaven face glowed with animation. He stooped to kiss her, and then holding her at arm's length looked anxiously into her eyes.

"Mother dear, what is the matter?" he asked. "You are so pale."

"I have been worrying about you, John," Mrs. Hampton evaded, while a wan smile flickered about the corners of her mouth. "I was afraid something had happened to you."

"I was unavoidably delayed, mother. I hoped to get home last night, but it was late before I saw Mr. Perkins. He kept me waiting a long time."

"Will he buy the mine?" Mrs. Hampton was eagerly alert now, and some of the colour had returned to her cheeks.

"He would give me no definite answer, mother. He put me off as usual."

"But he knows the value of the mine, does he not?"

"Oh, yes. He had an expert make a report, which is very favourable, so I understand. The seam is a long one, but it only comes to the surface on our place, which will make the mining very easy. Deep shafts would have to be sunk elsewhere, which would make the work most expensive. I wish to goodness we could mine it ourselves."

"That is out of the question, John," and Mrs. Hampton sighed. "Your—your father often talked to me about it, and I remember how he planned, to form a company, which would build a small railway line into the mine. But his sudden death upset everything. I have been trying for years to interest men of money, but so far without any success. Now, however, with coal at such a price and hard to obtain, I have been hoping that we might succeed."

"Mr. Perkins wants it for almost nothing, mother; that is the trouble. The mine is so far back, he said, that it would cost almost more than it is worth to bring it to the river. I know that is all nonsense, and told him so."

"Isn't there someone else, John?"

"Only one I know of, and that is Mr. Randall, the lumber merchant. But he refused point blank to have anything to do with it. He was very nasty and said his business was lumbering and not mining. I thought he would kick me out of his office, he was so ugly."

"That was last night, you say?"

"Yes, just before six o'clock."

"He had not heard, then, of his daughter's terrible deed."

John started, and looked keenly into Mrs. Hampton's face.

"Why, what have you heard, about his daughter, mother?" He tried to be calm, but his heart was beating rapidly.

"I heard that she drowned herself last night."

"Who told you that?"

"Gabriel Grimsby. He called in to rest for a while this afternoon. You met him, did you not?"

"Indeed I did, the rascal. But he is not anxious to meet me. I let him have ten dollars some time ago, and he has given me a wide berth ever since. What did Gabe tell you about Miss Randall?"

"Not very much. He merely said that she was a beautiful girl, much sought after, and moved a great deal in society. It seems that her parents wanted to force her to marry a man for whom she did not care, a Lord Somebody or other, and in despair she took her own life. Poor girl! it is very sad. You must have heard of it, John, and whether they have found her body."

John was listening intently to every word, at the same time watching the "Eb and Flo" bearing steadily up river.

"They have not found her body," he absently replied. "There is great excitement at Benton's wharf, and the river is now being dragged for her body."

"Dear me!" Mrs. Hampton sighed. "Her parents must be heart-broken."

"Heart-broken! H'm, they haven't any hearts to break. If they had, they wouldn't try to force their only daughter to marry a thing like Donaster."

"It is often done, though, John."

"I know it is. Some parents seem to think nothing of selling their daughters to the highest bidders. Imagine you, mother, doing such a thing if you had a daughter."

Mrs. Hampton turned her face toward the door lest John should detect the colour mounting her temples. But the young man noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He was looking out upon the river, watching the "Eb and Flo," now not far away. Presently he turned, and pulled out his watch.

"Why, it's five o'clock!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea it was so late. I have to go to the quarry, mother, on—on business. I want to see someone there."

"To-night?" Mrs. Hampton asked somewhat surprised, for John seldom went to the quarry, and she could not imagine what business could take him there now.

"Yes, I must go at once. I shall tell you all about it later."

"But you must have some supper first, dear. Just wait, it will not take me long."

"Very well, then, mother. While you're getting it ready I will look after the car. And, say, could you let me have some money to-morrow? I had only a little with me in the city, and besides having the car fixed, I had to get a new tire. I got it charged, promising to send the money as soon as I got home. I guess to-morrow will do, as I have not time to-night."

What Mrs. Hampton said in reply she did not know. Her brain was in a tumult as she made her way into the kitchen. How could she explain? What should she say? John knew about the one hundred dollars they had in the house, and what reason could she give for spending it? And he wanted it the next day!

When supper was ready she called John and tried to be as bright and cheerful as possible as they both sat down to the table. It was a cosy dining-room, and through the open window drifted the delicate fragrance of field and garden. But Mrs. Hampton was oblivious to this now. Amidst scenes of peace and beauty she was living in a world of misery, for a heavy heart makes the most beautiful surroundings a wretched mockery.

John was in excellent spirits and ate heartily. So intent was he upon his own affairs that he did not notice Mrs. Hampton's absent-mindedness.

"I may be away all night, mother," he told her, "so do not be uneasy. In fact, I might not be home until to-morrow night. You can get along, can you not? I know it isn't fair to leave you all the work to do, but I shall make up for it when I come back."

"It must be very important business, John, that will keep you at the quarry so long. Is it a secret?"

"It is for the present. There is a surprise in store for you." The young man's face coloured as he spoke, and this the woman silently noted.

"Agreeable?" she asked.

"I hope so. Just you wait." His boyish laugh rang out as he rose from the table. He suddenly ceased, however, and turned to his mother.

"Oh, about that money order! It must go to-morrow. If I should not be back in time, would you mind sending it? But, no, perhaps I had better take the money with me now, and get it at the store on my way to the quarry. There will be time, and I don't want to give you all the trouble. You will have enough to do without anything extra."

"No, no, John, it won't trouble me one bit," Mrs. Hampton hastened to assure him. "I have to go to the store in the morning, and can get the money order as well as not. Leave it to me. It's the Empire Garage, I think you said, where it is to be sent."

"Yes, that's the place. And thank you very much, mother. There's the bill. It's quite large, I know, but it's the first I've had to pay for some time."

He laid the paper upon the table, and was about to leave the room, when a heavy step was heard upon the verandah. In another minute an excited woman stood before them. She was panting heavily, and her hair was in much disorder.

"Why, Mrs. Tobin, what's the matter?" Mrs. Hampton asked, alarmed at her visitor's agitation.

"They've left me! They've left me!" she wailed, sinking down exhausted in the nearest chair. "Oh, to think that I have come to this!"

"Who have left you, Mrs. Tobin?" John asked. "What do you mean?"

"Sam'l an' Eben, of course. They sailed right by, and never stopped. What do you think of that?"

"That's nothing to worry about, Mrs. Tobin. They must have some good reason which they will no doubt explain later."

"You think so, do you?" the visitor demanded. "What makes you think there is a reason why they should go by without stopping?"

"I have no idea at all," the young man replied. "I only said that perhaps they had a reason."

"H'm, is that all you know about it? But I tell you there is a reason, and I'm going to find out. If it wasn't for leaving Flo alone I'd foot it every step of the way to the quarry this blessed night; that's what I'd do."

"Come, come, Mrs. Tobin, there is nothing to worry about," Mrs. Hampton comforted. "Surely you can trust your husband. Don't get so excited. Think of those poor people who lost their only daughter last night; drowned herself at Benton's wharf. What is your trouble compared to theirs?"

"Drowned herself, did you say?" and Mrs. Tobin held up her hands in horror. "Who was she? and why did she drown herself?"

"She was Mr. Henry Randall's daughter, who was greatly worried over some love affair, so I understand."

"Is that so? My lands! What's going to happen next? A girl drowned, and my husband and only son running away from me. It is terrible!"

With considerable effort John kept from smiling as he listened to Mrs. Tobin. What to her was a very serious matter, was to him cause for amusement. He was quite sure why the captain had sailed by Beech Cove without stopping as was his custom. Neither could he blame him. Any man would do the same who might have the misfortune to be united to such a woman as Mrs. Tobin. The captain was only acting in self-defence in his dash by his home and the wife he had chosen. John pictured to himself the state of affairs on the "Eb and Flo" had Mrs. Tobin gone aboard and there found the runaway girl. Explanation, he knew, would be useless, and it would be a very serious matter for the captain and his fair passenger. In fact, he felt quite proud of the captain's action, and considered him in the light of a hero. He pitied him as well, for he knew that he would have to face his wife's sharp tongue and searching questions upon his next visit home.

While the young man was thinking of these things, Mrs. Hampton was talking with her visitor. The latter was sipping a cup of tea, and nibbling at a piece of cake. She was becoming calmer under Mrs. Hampton's soothing influence, and inclined to take a brighter view of the situation.

"Keep up courage, Mrs. Tobin," John told her as he turned to leave the room. "I must hurry away now. If I happen to see the captain I shall tell him of your anxiety. You might, indeed, worry if your husband had the habit of running off with some other woman. But he is too old and steady for such nonsense." John knew how this would arouse the woman, for jealousy was one of her chief characteristics.

"That is just what I do fear," Mrs. Tobin replied. "Sam'l was always a little soft about women, and there are too many bad hussies in the city. When a man is away from home as much as he is, you can never be sure what he's up to. Why, even now he might have one of them brazen creatures on board. No, there's no fool like an old fool when it comes to women."

"But Eben's with him, isn't he? The captain wouldn't surely cut up any capers with his son on board."

"Eben! H'm! Little good would he be. He lives in the clouds when he isn't eating and sleeping. He wouldn't notice anything wrong with a dozen hussies on board. I don't know what I'm going to do with that boy."

"You are certainly worried about your family, Mrs. Tobin."

"Indeed I am, and no one knows it as well as I do. I'm not even certain of Flo. She has notions of her own which don't at all agree with my way of thinking."

John smiled broadly as he bade the woman good-bye, and left the house. Mrs. Tobin amused him greatly, and he was thinking of the lively scene that would take place when the captain came home.



CHAPTER XVI

MOKE THAN A DREAM

Very little sleep came to Mrs. Hampton that night. The disturbing events of the day still agitated her mind, giving her much anxiety. Grimsby's visit was the principal cause, for she felt that she could not trust the man, notwithstanding the money he had received and his promise of secrecy. Was her child alive? she asked herself over and over again. Her heart called out for even the slightest knowledge of the one she had bartered for money. Money! The thought stung and almost maddened her. She had given her own flesh and blood for money, and her punishment was rapidly increasing upon her. Her sin had followed her through the years, and had now suddenly enmeshed her. The steady tick of the clock seemed like an accusing voice to her hot brain, and the gentle motion of the blind at the open window annoyed her. She fancied it knew of her guilt and was mocking her. She was learning, as others have learned, that to the conscience-stricken heart and mind all things, even the inanimate, are banded together in a conspiracy of mockery and revenge.

She wondered, too, about John's strange behaviour. What was his special call to the quarry, and what was the secret he was keeping from her? He had never acted in such a manner before, and he only stayed from home at night on an occasional visit to the city. Had he fallen in with evil companions? She banished this idea, however, when she recalled how he had told her that he had a surprise in store for her, and that it was a pleasant one. Try as she might, she could not imagine what that might be, for the thought of a woman never once entered her mind. Not for an instant could she imagine John being in love, so engrossed was he with the affairs of the farm and the mine.

Although the night was long, she dreaded the coming of a new day. In some way she had to get the money to pay that bill, and where was it to come from? All the money, except a few dollars in the bank, had been withdrawn to pay for the car. It had been an expensive luxury, she was well aware, but John had set his mind upon it, and she had not the heart to oppose his wish. Hitherto the car had cost but little apart from the running expenses. In case anything did happen they had the one hundred dollars for immediate use. Now that was gone, and Mrs. Hampton had no idea how it was to be replaced. She must raise the amount some way, or else invent some plausible excuse as to what she had done with it. And the sum of sixty dollars was needed the next day, in the morning, too, so it could go to the city by the afternoon mail. After she had racked her brain in vain for some method of raising the money, she made up her mind that she must borrow it. The storekeeper would let her have it; she was certain. But how could she pay it back?

She thought of all these things as the night dragged by. Her wide sleepless eyes were still staring into space as the faint dawn of a new day came stealing gently into the room, and the birds outside the window began their early morning chorus. She arose, dressed herself, and attended to her household duties. There was also the work at the barn to be done, the cows to be milked, turned out to pasture, and the horses to be fed. Very rarely was she called upon to do such work, as John had always attended to this himself, and she wondered why he had not mentioned it that afternoon. He seemed, to have forgotten all about it. The business which took him to the quarry must be of special importance, she mused. If it was anyone else than John she would feel sure that he was in love.

About the middle of the forenoon she went to the store, and surprised the storekeeper by asking him to lend her sixty-five dollars for one month. He was quite willing to accede to her request, for she was a good customer, and always paid cash for whatever she bought. He looked at her curiously, nevertheless, after he had counted out the bills, and then made out a money order payable at St. John. He had known Mrs. Hampton for many years, and had never known her to borrow money before. Everyone supposed that she had a large bank account.

"You must have some security for this," she told him. "I shall give you a note."

"Not at all, Mrs. Hampton," the storekeeper protested. "Your word is all the note I need. I wish the same could be said of others. By the way, John seems very busy these days. He went by here like a whirlwind last night. Nothing wrong, I hope."

"No, nothing so far as I know. John is a fast driver, anyway."

Mrs. Hampton waited until the mail arrived, and when she had received her daily paper she walked slowly down the road. It was a beautiful day, though rather hot, so after she had gone some distance, she was glad to sit down to rest under the shade of a big maple tree. Hardly a ripple ruffled the surface of the river which stretched out before her. Its calmness appealed to her. Then she suddenly remembered the tragedy which had taken place at Benton's wharf. Somewhere, perhaps, in its quiet depths a girl was lying, who, but a few days before was full of abounding health and strength. The river, however, gave no sign of its secret, but smiled beneath the morning sun. "How like many a life that river is," she thought. "Outwardly everything seems full of peace and happiness, while all the time tragedy lurks beneath. That is the way with mine, at any rate. My friends, neighbours, and even John are unaware of the sin hidden within my soul. They imagine that my life is one of contentment, little realising how miserable I really am."

Unfolding the newspaper, she cast her eyes at the various headlines until they rested upon one which arrested her attention. It was set forth in large type, and described in vivid language the supposed drowning of Henry Randall's only daughter the night before. The article was well written, and told about Miss Randall's beauty, charm of manner, and her many friends, who were greatly shocked over the tragedy. Her parents were grief-stricken, and Mrs. Randall was inconsolable. There was no doubt at all but that the girl had committed suicide, distracted over a love affair. The river bad been thoroughly searched, but so far the body of the missing girl had not been found.

Mrs. Hampton could not get this story out of her mind, and she thought much about it as she walked home. As she went about her work that afternoon the girl was ever before her. Though she had never seen her, yet she pictured her with white face, and eyes filled with despair, rowing out from the wharf, and ending her young life. So she, too, had her troubles, poor girl!

As the afternoon was drawing to a close, and Mrs. Hampton was resting for a few minutes on the verandah, Flo Tobin came and sat down by her side. She was a frequent visitor, and Mrs. Hampton was always glad to see her. She was of a bright, sunny disposition, altogether different from her mother, and with none of Eben's peculiarities.

"Wasn't it terrible about that girl drowning herself last night?" she at once began. "I can't get her out of my mind."

"It is very sad," Mrs. Hampton replied. "She had everything that money can buy, and yet she was not happy."

"Money isn't everything," and Flo looked thoughtfully out upon the river as she spoke. "Now, look at me. I have a home, food, clothes, and such things, but they don't always make a girl happy. She needs to be understood, and that's where parents so often fail. I don't blame that girl for doing what she did. I have often felt like doing the same thing myself."'

"Flo! I am astonished to hear you say such a thing."

"I know you are, but it is true, for all that. What have I to live for, anyway? Mother keeps me tied to the house most of the time, and doesn't want me to associate with other girls, or go to parties for fear I might go astray. She says that home is the place for girls."

"Your mother means well, dear. She is a good woman, and believes she is doing the best she can for you."

"I suppose she does," and the girl sighed. "But sometimes she makes me hate goodness and all good people, so I feel like being bad just for a change. Mother's method of goodness rubs me the wrong way. I am afraid you wouldn't call her very good if you knew how mad she is to-day about daddy and Eben sailing by without stopping. I pity them, for they will have a hard time when they come home. But there's mother calling me now. She can't bear to have me out of her sight even for a few minutes."

As Mrs. Hampton watched the girl as she hurried down to the road, she thought how nice it would be to have such a daughter as Flo. What a companion she would be, and how proud she would be of her. And she might have had one, more beautiful, perhaps, than Flo but for her own mad deed years ago. Yet her daughter was somewhere in the world, unknown to her even by name. The only recollection she had of her was when the nurse had brought her to the bedside in the hospital for her to see. But she was so weak and tired then, that she had merely glanced at the little one. Her husband's critical financial affairs were a great worry to her at that time, so the thought of paying the doctor, the hospital bill, and providing for the child was most distressing. The simple matter of exchanging the babies had been done so quietly that she hardly realised that it had taken place. Babies, after all, were very much alike, and when next time the nurse brought a little bundled form to her side she could not tell it from her own. It was only afterwards, when her strength returned, that her heart cried out for her own flesh and blood, the one for whom she had suffered so much. Even her husband never knew what she endured. The money had meant a great deal to him, and he was pleased to know that the baby was a boy who would grow up as his own son.

It was late that night when Mrs. Hampton went to bed. She had stayed up longer than usual, waiting for John. But when the clock struck eleven and he had not arrived, she wearily made her way upstairs to her room. She left the front door unlocked, and a lunch on the dining-room table, for John always liked something to eat before retiring.

Mrs. Hampton found it hard to get to sleep, and she lay awake for some time. When slumber did at last seal her eyes she was beset by a fantastic dream. She was surrounded by all kinds of people, greatly excited. They were constantly moving, some coming and others going. Faces and forms appeared and vanished in a bewildering manner. At last one stood out clear from all the rest. It was the face of a beautiful girl, who looked upon her with longing eyes and called her "mother." With a cry, Mrs. Hampton reached out her arms to enfold her, but the girl disappeared, and in her stead stood John, with a smile upon his face.

"Been having a dream, mother?" he asked. "It must have been an exciting one."

Somewhat dazed, Mrs. Hampton looked at the young man before her, and her senses returned. She smiled faintly, and asked him the time.

"It is past midnight," was the reply. "I am sorry to disturb you, but you are needed downstairs. I have someone with me who has met with a slight accident."

"A man or a woman?"

"A woman. Just slip on your dressing-gown."

"All right, John, I shall be down in a few minutes." Mrs. Hampton was sitting up in bed now, fully awake. Someone needed her, so she must not delay.

It did not take her long to dress, and as she left her room and descended the stairs, she noticed a light shining from the parlour. She thought it strange that John should take the woman in there. Stepping softly, she reached the door, and was about to enter, when she suddenly stopped, and stared with amazement upon the scene which met her eyes. Lying upon the sofa was a young woman, a mere girl so she seemed, with a white bandage bound about her forehead. John was kneeling by her side, with his right hand in hers, and his eyes fixed lovingly upon her face. All this Mrs. Hampton noted at the first glance, and the reason for John's visit to the quarry was at once apparent,

And as she looked the girl slightly turned her head, and as Mrs. Hampton's eyes rested upon her face, she gave a great start and clutched at the side of the door for support. It was the face of the girl she had seen in her dream! It was her own daughter who had appeared to her for one fleeting instant. Mrs. Hampton trembled violently as she stood there. Was she still asleep? she wondered, and would she awake to find it all a dream? But when she saw the look of love in the girl's eyes, and the smile which illumined her face, she knew that it was no fading dream. And just then John saw her.

"Mother!" he cried, leaping to his feet. "I am glad you have come. Here she is, and she wants to meet you."

He had now taken Mrs. Hampton by the arm, and was leading her across the room to where the girl was lying.

"Mother, this is Jess—Jess Randall, and she has met with an accident. I have brought her here for you to nurse."

"Jess Randall!" Mrs. Hampton repeated, as she took the girl's hand in hers. It was the name of the girl who had been drowned at Benton's wharf. Could it be possible that she was the same! And was this stranger her own daughter?

John noted her bewildered look, and laughed outright.

"No wonder you are astonished, mother," he told her, "This is really Miss Randall, the girl who was drowned. It's a great secret, and we shall tell you all about it later. Don't ask too many questions now, for we are too happy to answer them, are we not, Jess?"

The latter smiled and pressed Mrs. Hampton's hand more firmly. Then her eyes became moist, and a tear stole down her cheek. At once Mrs. Hampton aroused to action, and dropping upon her knees by the sofa she put her arms lovingly about the girl and kissed her upon the lips. Her heart was too full for utterance. This was her own child, she had no doubt about that now. Her dream was fulfilled in a wonderful manner. She looked into the clear eyes, drank in the beauty of her face, and stroked her soft hair. So this was her own child, the one she had longed to behold for so many years. She was with her at last. But the girl must never know. She must never call her "mother." The thought was terrible. Her own daughter, and yet not her own. She had sold her for money, and how she would spurn her should she ever hear of it. It was almost more than she could endure. In her confusion she tried to say something, to utter words of welcome. But all in vain. A feeling of helplessness and despair swept upon her, so throwing her arms impulsively about the girl's neck, and burying her face upon her breast, she sobbed as if her heart would break. The maddening tension of long years had at last given way, and tears, unknown before, brought a blessed relief.



CHAPTER XVII

CAPTAIN SAM'L GOES HOME

As Mrs. Tobin walked with her husband from the shore the evening she took him off the "Eb and Flo," she maintained a rigid silence. The captain was well accustomed to this mood, and it always affected him more than the scolding. He knew then that his wife's anger was more than ordinary, and it was necessary for him to use all the diplomacy at his command.

"I've been thinkin', Martha, that you need a holiday," he at length ventured. "Ye haven't taken one fer a long time now. A trip to Fredericton would do ye a world of good. Yer nephew wrote fer ye to come an' see him."

Mrs. Tobin, however, was not inclined to discuss this subject, dear though it was to her heart. She had often planned such a trip, but she had something more serious to think about just now. She strode rapidly forward, causing the captain to puff at a great rate in his effort to keep up with her. He became annoyed.

"Say, Martha," he panted, "I'm not used to sich a gait as this, even if you are. Yer hittin' the ground so fast an' hard with them boots of yours that it's gittin' hot. I kin almost see the grass smokin'. Phew, I'm all in!" He slowed down, pulled out his handkerchief, and mopped his brow. "Go on, if ye want to. I'll be home after a while."

This appeal had some effect, for Mrs. Tobin stayed her steps a little.

"Thar, that's better, Martha," the captain encouraged.

"Ye kin slow up when ye want to. I wish to goodness ye'd slow up in other ways. Ye've been settin' me a lively pace ever since we was married, an' it's gittin' faster every year. Me heart can't stand much more, so if yer not keerful ye'll be lookin' around fer another husband before long. But I pity him, poor chap, an' if I only knew who he might be I'd give him a note of warnin' while I'm in the flesh."

It was quite evident that Mrs. Tobin was longing to express her feelings in no uncertain language, but as she had made up her mind to treat Samuel with silent contempt, it would not do to make any reply. She was greatly agitated, however, to find that this method was not so effective as in the past. Her husband was getting beyond her, and it worried her a great deal.

The captain was not slow to notice this, and it pleased him. He wondered why he had allowed her to ride rough-shod over him for so long. Perhaps a little more such treatment might break her spell.

"Martha," he continued, "if ever ye marry agin after I'm dead, I'll come back to ye from the spirit world. I'll be so anxious to see how ye git along with yer new husband that nuthin' could keep me from comin'."

He ceased and glanced at his wife to note the effect of this startling announcement. But no change in her attitude could he observe.

"I'll come, Martha," he went on, "when yer least expectin' me, mebbe in the night, an' when ye open yer eyes ye'll see me standin' before ye. If ye never had a creepy feelin' before, ye'll have one then. Yer hair'll stand right on end, an' yer blood'll about freeze in yer veins. An' I'll step right up to the side of yer bed, an' look straight into yer eyes, an' hold out me hands——"

The captain never finished his sentence, for with a bound Martha had left him. She ran as he had never seen her run before, and by the time he reached the house she was in the kitchen, and did not even look at him as he entered. The table was set for supper, but Flo was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Tobin busied herself about the stove, while the captain washed himself at the sink. He was hungry, for not even his wife's anger could take away his hearty appetite. Some cold lamb on the table appealed to him, and he was about to sit down and help himself when the kitchen door was suddenly opened and Flo burst into the room. She was greatly excited, and was about to announce some startling bit of news when her mother checked her. She thrust her hand into a pocket in her dress, and held up the side-comb for inspection. The captain stood transfixed, staring upon the innocent cause of his wife's wrath.

"Look at that," Mrs. Tobin, cried, holding it out before her daughter. "Is it any wonder that I'm heart-broken?"

The girl's eyes grew wide with amazement as she glanced first at the comb, and then at her father and mother. She surmised at once that there was trouble between them, but what the comb had to do with it she could not understand.

"Why, mother," Flo at last found voice to say, "I don't see anything wrong about that comb. It's mine, I must have left it in the cabin the last time I came up the river. I knew I had lost it, but could not tell where."

With a whoop of joy the captain sprang forward, and caught his daughter in his arms.

"Bully fer you, Flo!" he shouted. "Ye've saved me neck all right this time, an' I shan't fergit it soon. Ye'll have a new dress, by gum, ye will. Ho, ho, Martha," and he turned to his discomfited wife, "ye thought that I was entertainin' ladies on the 'Eb an' Flo,' didn't ye? An' it was all on account of that comb. Ha, ha, that's a good one."

"Hold your tongue, Sam'l." Mrs. Tobin had at last found her voice. "I admit that I was mistaken about the comb, but I want to know why you didn't stop on your way up river? I really believe there's something wrong with your mind, Sam'l. I never heard you speak to me the way you did on the boat, and then coming to the house you talked such nonsense about dying, and appearing to me from the spirit world. You haven't been drinking, have you?"

Before the captain could reply Flo interposed. She was bubbling over with excitement, and her parents' troubles did not concern her in the least. She was too well accustomed to such scenes to take them seriously to heart.

"Mother," she began, "there's a girl visiting the Hamptons, and I believe she and John are engaged."

This startling announcement had a profound effect upon Mrs. Tobin. Whatever took place across the road was of special interest to her. She sat down suddenly upon the nearest chair, and stared at her daughter. Flo laughed outright at her mother's excitement.

"That's more interesting than the comb, isn't it?" she bantered. "But it's true. I saw her myself, and my, she's beautiful!"

"A girl visiting the Hamptons!" Mrs. Tobin slowly repeated, "and engaged to John! Are you sure? When did you hear all this?"

"I was just over there, and saw things for myself. You don't need to have your eyes and ears very wide open in that house to understand how she and John love each other."

"Who is she, for pity's sake? and where did she come from? I never knew that John had a girl."

"Neither did I, mother. But if you saw them together you would have no doubt about it. They seem to be so happy. John brought her in his car last night. She met with an accident somewhere, and she has a bandage across one side of her forehead."

"Met with an accident!" Mrs. Tobin exclaimed. "In what way?"

"I have no idea, and I didn't like to ask."

"Didn't like to ask!" Mrs. Tobin sniffed in disgust. "If I'd been in your place I would have found out everything. You don't even know her name, I suppose."

"Oh, yes, I found that out. It's a funny one, Betty Bean."

During this conversation the captain had been rubbing his hands vigorously with the towel. He had to be doing something, so this was just as well as anything else. When he learned that a visitor was at the Hamptons, and that she had met with an accident, he began to fear the worst. Who else could it be but the girl he had taken up river on his boat? But when he heard that her name was Betty Bean he was greatly relieved, hung up the towel, and started for the table. The girl interested him no longer, and it did not matter to him whether John Hampton had a sweetheart or not.

"Come on, an' let's have supper," he ordered. "I'm 'most starved. One would think from the way you two talk that thar is a menagerie over the way. I don't care how many girls John has."

"But I care," his wife retorted. "And what's more, I'm going over this very night to see her myself. You are away from home so much, Sam'l, that you see people and have a good time. But with me it's different. I have to stay right here week in and week out, and see nothing but the same things and the same people. It isn't very often we have a visitor here, especially at the Hamptons. Yes, I'm going over to see and hear what I can."

"Yer right, Martha," the captain agreed. "Ye sartinly do need a change, an' as I told ye comin' from the shore ye must take that trip to Fredericton. It'll do ye a world of good. Flo kin come with me fer a trip, an' it'll be nice to have her to look after things an' cook fer us."

"And leave another comb to give you trouble, daddy," the girl replied, while her eyes twinkled with merriment.

"Sure, sure, I don't mind how many combs ye leave, so long as yer mother lets me alone afterwards."

When supper was ended, Mrs. Tobin rose from the table.

"Come, Sam'l, fix yourself up," she ordered, "and let us go over to see that girl."

"But I'm not goin'," the captain protested. "I'm not anxious to see her an' John spoonin'. I want to stay right here at home, an' have a quiet smoke all to meself. You an' Flo go along. I'll look after the dishes."

"Indeed you won't stay, Sam'l. You're going, too. You haven't seen Mrs. Hampton for some time, and it's good for you to be neighbourly. She won't like it one bit if you don't come. So hurry up with your smoke, and then get ready."

"Fiddlesticks!" the captain growled as he hunted for his pipe. "I haven't been home fer days, and then when I do git here ye hustle me right away agin."

"And you wouldn't be here now if I hadn't brought you," was the retort. "You're getting more obstinate every day, Sam'l Tobin. I don't know what's coming over you."

"Sense, Martha, jist common sense. I'm seein' things in a new light. Every time I come home ye keep naggin' so much at me that I'm always glad when I git on board the boat agin. I wish to goodness I was thar now. Wonder how Eben's makin' out."

"Most likely he's asleep," Flo laughingly replied. "I'd like to go on board and surprise him. Wouldn't it be fun? May I, mother? You and daddy go to Mrs. Hampton's without me."

"Indeed you'll do no such a thing," her mother sharply replied. "We don't want another drowning accident here like that one at Benton's wharf."

"But I don't want to drown myself, mother. I'm not like that poor unfortunate girl. She was running away from a man who wanted to marry her. Do you think I'd do such a foolish thing as that? Indeed I wouldn't. I wish that Lord Somebody-or-other would come my way. I'm sure I wouldn't drown myself to get clear of him. He wouldn't get rid of me so easily. I wonder what it feels like to have a Lord's son in love with you. I think it would be great."

"Don't talk such nonsense, Flo," Mrs. Tobin chided. "Men are deceivers, and the less you have to do with them the better. Just think of that poor girl who drowned herself. No doubt she found out what that Lord's son was like, and rather than marry him she ended her life. Did you hear whether they found her body, Sam'l?"

The captain gave a guilty start, coughed, and stared at his wife. He was afraid she would ask this question.

"No, I guess they didn't find her, Martha. They was searchin' the river when we pulled out from Benton's. I haven't heard anything since. She's Henry Randall's daughter, I believe."

"And his wife, Sam'l, was old Silas Parks' daughter. He was the real estate man who sold that bed of rocks to Mr. Hampton. She was worth a pile of money when she married Randall."

"Yes, an' I guess she's worth more to-day, Martha. She's a shrewd one, all right, an' as close-fisted as her dad. My, it was a caution the way he took Hampton in on that place. It really isn't worth five cents."

"But there's coal on it, though, Sam'l, an' that should be worth a great deal."

"Coal, ha, ha. Yes, thar's coal, but what good is it way back in the hills? John can't git anybody to touch it, though he's been tryin' hard. It's too fer from the river. I do feel sorry fer John. He's a decent feller, an' if he could only git that notion about the coal out of his head he might be good fer something. He's not much at farmin'."

"And to think of him getting married, Sam'l! How on earth will he support a wife? It's as much as he and his mother can do to get along as it is, though many think they are well off. But, then, that's none of our business. He can marry anyone he likes for all I care. I only want to know what she looks like, and where she comes from. If she's to be our neighbour, I want to find out all I can about her. So, hurry up and get ready. I'll help Flo with the dishes."



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?"