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"You will return me," she said. "You are not in earnest. This is a bold and awful act of treachery attempted merely to test me. Marry you! Send me back to my father at once whilst my home is at hand, or you will discover that instead of having won a wife, you have driven a girl into a madhouse.",

"The very look of that hole," said the old lady, directing her eyes at the companion-way, "makes me feel as though if I descended I[Pg 98] should suffer all that nearly killed me in my voyage from Dover to Calais.",

"You boys stay right here and keep fire under that kettle," she commanded. "I'm goin' to take that old Caleb Spencer's sawdust back to him an' give him a piece of my mind." And picking up the basket she went out, banging the door behind her.,

She made no sign. He repeated her name as though startled by her immobility in which an element of tragedy might have been found in the singular, unwinking fixity of her stare upon her hands. He stepped to her side, and peered closely into her face and listened to hear if she breathed. Oh yes: she breathed, she was alive. But though he put his face so close to her's that she might have felt his breath upon her cheek, her form did not move by so much as might indicate the passage of a thrill, her eyes remained as steadfast in their gaze as though they were painted.

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"From whom was that letter? Who is the person that Miss Lucy has fled to help? It cannot possibly be my son, sir. If he had met with a serious accident, would the ship have sailed? But even if he had met with a serious accident and left the duty of going to sea with the mate, would he have sent to Miss Lucy? I am utterly beaten. I see nothing, and can conjecture nothing!",

"If you had somethin' sweet an' soothin' to give him," Billy suggested. "Pine syrup, er hoarhound, er somethin' like that, now—",

"Well?" Caleb asked finally. "What about it?",

"I can't tell how the fancies came to me," said Lucy. "I know that mad people see apparitions and reply to imaginary voices. I also remembered old Sarah Hutchinson who was thought mad because she was always trying to tear up things: her sheets, her gowns, anything that might be given to her. It was the remembrance of this disease in her that made me rip up my mattress and scatter the feathers about the cabin."