CHAPTER XVI
ANOTHER BLOW DESCENDS
The ride home from Belleport was a subdued one, bringing to anafternoon that had been rich in sunshine a climax of shadow. TheGalbraiths were far too stunned by the startling revelations of the dayto wish to prolong a meeting that had lapsed into awkwardness, anduntil they had had opportunity to readjust themselves they were eagerto be alone; nor did their delicacy of perception fail to detect asimilar craving in the minds of their guests. Therefore they did notpress their visitors to remain and tactfully arranged that one of theservants instead of Roger should drive the Spences back over the HarborRoad.
As the motor purred its way along, there was little conversation. Evenhad not the chauffeur's presence acted as a restraint, none of theparty would have had the heart to make perfunctory conversation; thetragedy of the moment had touched them too deeply. What a strange,wonderful unraveling of life's tangled skeins had come with the fewfleeting hours. Each turned the drama over in his mind, trying to makea reality of it and spin into the warp and woof of the tapestry timehad already woven this thread of new color. But so startling was it inhue that it refused to blend, standing out against the duller tones ofthe past with appalling distinctness; and never was it moreirreconcilable than when the familiar confines of the little fishinghamlet by the sea were reached and those who struggled to harmonize itsaw it in contrast with this background of simplicity.
Each silently reconstructed Delight's life, now linking it with itsancestry and its romantic beginnings. She had, then, sprung fromaristocratic stock; riches had been her right, and culture herheritage. She had been the single flower of a passionate love, and thehot-headed young father to whom she had been bequeathed when bereft ofthe woman he had adored had taken her with him when he had sought thesea's balm to assuage his sorrow. She was all that remained of thattender, throbbing memory of his youth. Where he went she followed, allunconscious of peril and with youth's God-given faith; and when thegreat moment came and the supreme sacrifice was demanded, the manvoluntarily severed the bonds that bound them, leaving her to lifewhile he himself went forth into the Beyond. What must not that heroicsoul have suffered when he cast his child into the ocean's arms andupon the mercies of an unknown future! What blind trust led him; whatunselfishness and courage lay in the choice he made! A smaller mindwould have followed the easier path and kept them united to the end,happy in the thought that in their death they were not divided, andthat no years stretched ahead when she would be without his protection.Might he not be performing a kinder act to let her go down into the seathan to entrust her to the charity of strangers? He must have wrestledwith all these problems and temptations as he stood lashed to the mastout there in the fateful storm.
Ah, his confidence in a fatherhood more omniscient than his own had notbeen misplaced. Loving hands had borne his darling safely through thewaves to a home where, in an atmosphere of devotion, the beauty thathad been in her from the beginning had perfected in its maturity. Eventhe homely surroundings of the environment into which she drifted couldnot stifle her native fineness of soul. Bred up a fisherman's daughtershe had lived and moved among plain, kindly people, whom she hadlearned to cherish and revere as if they were of her blood, and to whomshe had endeared herself to a corresponding degree.
And now what was her future to be? Was she suddenly to be snatchedback into her rightful sphere, the ties that linked her with thepresent snapped asunder, and a new world with the myriad opportunitiesshe had until now been denied placed within her reach? That was thequery that agitated the minds of the silent thinkers who sped along theHarbor Road.
Sunset was gilding the water, kissing the sands into rosy warmth andcasting glints of vermilion over the low buildings at the mouth of thebay, where windows flashed forth a flaming reflection of fire. Thepeace of approaching twilight brooded over the village. Little boats,like homing doves, came flying across the vast expanse of waves, theirsails a splendor of copper in the fading light. With the hush of nightthe breeze died into stillness until scarce a leaf of theweather-beaten poplars stirred. From the tangle of roses, sweet fernand bayberry that overgrew the fields the note of a thrush rose clearon the quiet air. A whirling bevy of gulls circled the bar, left nakedand opalescent by the receding tide. Peace was everywhere, divinepeace, save in the breasts of those who gazed only to find a mockery inthe surrounding tranquillity.
Robert Morton's face was stern in meditation. How was this mightytransformation in Delight's fortunes to affect the hopes he fostered?To wed the daughter of a humble fisherman was a different matter fromoffering a penniless future to the grand-daughter of the stately MadamLee. Even when the possibility of marriage with Cynthia had loomed inhis path, his pride had rebelled at the financial inequality of thematch. He did not wish to be patronized, to come empty-handed to aprincess whose hands were full. The thought had been a galling one.And now once again he was in a similar position. Of course, Madam Leeand the Galbraiths would desire to make good the past; he knew themwell enough for that. Delight would be elevated to the same plane withCynthia, and he would be faced with the old irritating inferiority offortune. Moreover, in her recently acquired station, the lady of hisdreams might scorn such a humble suitor. Who could tell? Wealthworked great changes in individuals sometimes, and at best human naturewas a frail, assailable, and incalculable factor. Furthermore the girlhad never pledged him her love. There had been no spoken word betweenthem. The vision that had made a Utopia of his world had been, hereflected, of his own creating.
He glanced at Delight, but she did not meet his eye.
Her gaze was vacantly following the rapidly shifting landscape.
Although the glory from the sky shone on her face the radiance thatglowed there came only from without and was the result of no inwardexultation. Even the gray cottage had assumed a false splendor in therosy twilight and was lighted with a beauty not its own.
When the car stopped, Willie clambered stiffly out and he and Bobhelped the women to alight. Then the motor rolled away and they werealone.
"Well!" burst out Celestina, her pent-up feeling taking vent, "did youever know of such a to-do? I've been stiflin' to talk all the wayhome! Why, you're goin' to be rich, Delight! You'll be aunts, an'uncles, an' cousins with them Galbraiths--picture it! Likely they'lltake you to New York with 'em an' to goodness knows where!"
The girl did not answer but moved to Willie's side and slipped her handinto his, as if certain of his understanding and sympathy.
"You don't seem much set up by your good luck," went on the breathlessCelestina.
"Delight's kinder bowled over by surprise, Tiny," Willie explainedgently. "It's took all our breaths away, I guess."
Tenderly he pressed the trembling fingers that clung to his.
"You ain't got to worry about it, dearie," whispered he in a caressingtone. "No power can make you do anything you don't choose to; an'what's more, nobody'll want to force you into what won't be for yourhappiness."
"I shall never leave Zenas Henry," Delight said with determination.
"An' nobody'll urge you to, dear heart. Don't fret, child, don't fret.To-morrow we'll straighten this snarl all out an' 'til then you've gotnothin' to fear. Them as love you shall stay by, I give you my word onit."
"Hadn't I better go home to-night and tell them?"
The old inventor considered a moment.
"I don't believe I would," he answered at last. "They ain't expectin'you, an' if you was to go lookin' so white an' frightened as you donow, 'twould anger Zenas Henry an' upset 'em all. Wait an' see whathappens to-morrow. 'Twill be time enough then. You're tired,sweetheart. Stay here an' rest to-night. What do you say, Bob?"
"I think it would be much wiser."
"Course 'twould," nodded Willie. "You stay right here, like as ifnothin' had happened, an' think calmly about it a little while, child.You ain't got to decide a thing at present; furthermore, there may notbe anything for you to decide. We've
no way of figgerin' whatyour--your--relations mean to do. Just trust 'em a bit. They're Bob'sfriends an' I guess we can count on 'em to act as is fair an' right."
"They _are_ Bob's friends, aren't they?" repeated the girl, her facebrightening as if the fact, hitherto forgotten, gave her confidence.
"And splendidly loyal friends too," the young man put in eagerly.
"Then I will trust them," she said. "It isn't as if they werestrangers."
How Robert Morton longed to go to her, to tell her in her sweetdependence how eager he was for the day when no friend of his should bea stranger to her; when their lives would be so closely intertwinedthat every interest, every hope, every thought of his should be hersalso. Perhaps the unuttered wish that trembled on his lips wasreflected in his eyes, for after looking up at him she suddenly droppedher lashes and, turning away, followed Tiny into the house.
"I've cautioned Celestina not to go talkin' to her any more just now,"announced the little old man when she had gone. "Your aunt's an awfulgood woman; no better lives. But there's times like today when thingsdon't strike her as they do me an' Delight. She's so fond of the girlthat her first thought would be for the money an' all that; but thatwould be the last consideration in the world in Delight's mind. She'sawful loyal an' affectionate. Things go deep with her, an' she sets aheap of store by the folks she cares for. Why, Zenas Henry is like herown father. Since she was a wee tot she ain't known no other. Whilethis old lady, her grandmother--what is she? Why, she don't meannothin'--not a thing!"
They walked on toward the shop door, each occupied with his ownreveries; then suddenly Willie roused himself.
"Why, if here ain't Janoah!" he exclaimed.
"What you doin', Jan? Was you after somethin'? I reckon you found theplace pretty well deserted an' were wonderin' what had become of usall."
"I warn't doin' no wonderin', Willie Spence," the man replied. "Iknowed where you'd gone 'cause I saw you ridin' away like a sheep bein'led to the sacrifice."
"Like a what?" repeated the inventor with a grin.
"An innocent lamb, or a rat in a trap," Janoah said with solemnemphasis.
"What are you drivin' at, anyhow?" questioned Willie.
"You didn't suspect nothin'?"
"Suspect anything? No, of course not. Why?"
"You hadn't a suspicion the whole thing was a decoy?"
"What whole thing?"
"The trip an' all."
Willie studied his friend's face in puzzled silence.
"Whatever are you tryin' to say?" demanded he at last.
Janoah swept his hand dramatically round the shop.
"You've been betrayed, Willie!" he announced with tragic intensity."Betrayed by them as you thought was your friends, an' who you'vetrusted. I warned you, but you wouldn't listen, an' now the thing Itold you would happen has happened." Triumphant pleasure gleamed inthe sinister smile. "They tricked you into leavin'," went on themalicious voice, "an' then they came here an' stole what wasyours--your invention. I caught 'em doin' it. I hid outside an'overheard 'em tell how they'd been waitin' days for the chance wheneverybody should be gone. 'Twas that Snelling an' another like him, adraughtsman. They laughed an' said that now the old man was out of theway they could do as they pleased. Then they took all the measurementsof your invention, made some sketches, an' took its picter."
Willie listened, open-mouthed.
"You must be crazy, Janoah," he slowly observed.
"I ain't crazy," Janoah replied, with stinging sharpness. "The wholething was just as I say. It was part of a plot that Snellin' an'Galbraith have been plannin' all along; an' either they've used thisyoung feller here [he motioned toward Robert Morton] as a tool, or elsehe's in it with 'em."
Bob started forward, but Willie's hand was on his arm.
"Gently, son," he murmured. Then addressing Janoah he asked: "An' whatearthly use could Mr. Galbraith have for--"
"'Cause he sees money in it," was the prompt response.
A thrill of uneasiness passed through Robert Morton's frame. Had notthose very words been spoken both by the capitalist and HowardSnelling? They had uttered them as a laughing prediction, but mightthey not have rated them as true? With sudden chagrin he looked fromWillie to Janoah and from Janoah back to Willie again.
"I've been inquirin' up this Galbraith," went on Janoah. "It 'pearshe's a big New York shipbuilder--that's what he is--an' Snellin' is oneof his head men."
If the mischief-maker derived pleasure from dealing out the fruit ofhis investigations he certainly reaped it now, for he was rewarded byseeing an electrical shock stiffen Willie's figure.
"It ain't true!" cried the little inventor. "It ain't true! Is it,Bob?"
Robert Morton's eyes fell before his piercing scrutiny.
"Yes," was his reluctant answer.
"You knew it all along?"
"Yes."
"An' Snellin'?"
"He is in Mr. Galbraith's employ, yes."
"An'--an'--you let 'em come here--" began the old man bewildered.
"You let 'em come here to steal Willie's idee," interrupted Janoah,wheeling on Bob. "You helped 'em to come, after his takin' you intohis home an' all!"
"I didn't know what they meant to do," Robert Morton stammered. "Ijust thought they were going to lend us a hand at working up the thing."
"A likely story!" sniffed Janoah with scorn. "No siree! You came hereas a tool--you were paid for it, I'll bet a hat!"
"You lie."
"Prove it," was the taunting response.
"I--I--can't prove it," confessed the young man wretchedly, "but Willieknows that what you accuse me of isn't so."
With face alight with hope he turned toward the old man at his elbow;but no denial came from the expected source. Willie had sunk down on apile of boards and buried his face in his hands.
"An' I thought they were my friends," they heard him moan.
Robert Morton hesitated, then bent over the bowed figure, and as he didso Janoah, casting one last look of gloating delight at the ruin he hadwrought, slipped softly from the room.
As he went out he heard a broken murmur from the inventor:
"I'll--I'll--not--believe it," asserted he feebly.
But despite the brave words, the seed of suspicion had taken root, andRobert Morton knew that Willie's confidence in him had been shaken.Still the little old man clung with dogged persistence to his sanguinedeclaration:
"_I'll not believe it_!"