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"You know, madam—Miss Acton—Lucy—my Lucy—that I am a man of broken fortunes. I have struggled hard to retrieve the past, but the world is full, and I have been unable to find room in it. You came in my way. I adored your beauty, and worshipped you for your character. You would not accept my hand, but I felt in my secret soul that I was not indifferent to you—nay, that if I could advance higher claims than those of a broken lieutenant and a man with the[Pg 254] reputation of being a gambler and a drunkard, you would have listened to me, you would have consented. Nor would your father have objected, for he loves our service, and his partiality for Sir William would have helped me. I determined to win you, no matter the machinery I might set in motion. I was determined to escape the horrible trouble of bankruptcy, and the intolerable menace of a debtor's gaol, by carrying this ship to a port and there selling her and her cargo through the agency of a man who is known to me, and with the money thus got, I mean to pay off all my creditors in England, and return with you as my wife, assured of Captain Acton's forgiveness for your sake, and equally assured of his approval, as it is my intention to hoist the flag of honour as high as my father has mastheaded it, to be a gentleman, to live as a gentleman, and to be deemed by the part I hope to play in the drama of life, worthy of being the husband of Lucy Acton, and the son-in-law of her gallant, generous, noble-hearted father.",

Mr Short occupied the head of the table, and the oldest frequenter who happened to be present the foot. Mr Short took his seat when Mr Lawrence sat down, and all the people who had come to eat were then assembled. In a picture they would figure as a homely old English lot: men in bottle-green coats, in red coats, in purple waistcoats, in plain pilot cloth, here and there a dandy built up in the latest style, here and there an old fogey who stuck to the fashion of the last[Pg 126] century and figured in a little tye wig, a frill very fit for the harbouring of snuff, a cut-away coat with immense pockets, such as Boswell might have been found drunk in, in Edinburgh, and shoes with buckles.,

Mrs. Wilson subsided at last and wiped her eyes on her apron. Then she took Billy's face between her hands and kissed him on the freckled nose. "I know how much you miss your own Ma, Willium," she said, "and I know I kin never take her place, but I love you, an' it worries me awful to think anythin' might happen to you.",

Billy sat looking away. His grey eyes had grown somber. "See here," he said suddenly, "do you know that old man Scroggie left a will?"

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"I know, Jacobs, that you and your henchmen, Tom Standish and Jack Blake, robbed Twin Oaks store and blew the safe; also that you were disappointed. There was no will there. Where you made your big mistake, my friend, was in misjudging Pennsylvania Scroggie. For instance, when you lied to him and told him that you had found the will, and threatened to turn it over to the rightful heir, providing he did not give you a clear deed to Lost Man's Swamp—what did he say to you?",

"She lives at Uphill Cottage, and lay in of a very fine baby a fortnight yesterday, and has done very poorly since. You cannot tell me how she does?",

"Nary a word but I asked him what he intended to do with the Scroggie hardwoods. He told me that he had sold it to a lumber company. He says there'll be a big camp of cutters and sawyers down here this winter. I said I supposed he'd be goin' back to the States jest as soon as he got things cleared up here, an' you ought to see the queer look he gave me.,

"Well, I'll be on hand to receive 'em," the deacon promised, "and if I don't teach them thieves and rogues a lesson it'll be a joke on me. Now I must run on and catch up with Cobin Keeler and the rest o' the neighbors. They've got to know about this, so, if you'll jest tell me your name—why, bless me, the boy's gone!"