Pats tore open the envelope. Elinor stepped nearer and stood beside him,
that she also might read.
"It is in French." Then he began
"_Monsieur le Duc_--"
"Why, the old gentleman was a duke!" exclaimed Elinor.
"I am not surprised. You know we always suspected him of being a howling
swell. But this writing and the language are too much for me. You really
must read it." And he put the paper in her hands.
Elinor's French was perfect, but after the first sentence Pats
interrupted:
"Translate as you go along. It is too important to take chances with,
and I never was at home in that deceitful tongue."
Elinor dropped into the chair that stood beside her. Pats sat upon the
edge of the table.
Monsieur Le Duc:
It is with a grand regret that I find myself unable to pay my
respects in person to your Grace, but a broken ankle keeps me a
prisoner in the cabin. If there is anything your Grace wishes to
communicate, have the extreme goodness to send me a note by the
bearer. He can be trusted. I leave the stores following last
instructions. Enclosed is the list. The bearer will bring to me
your new list from behind the door, if by chance you are not at
home.
Your Grace's devoted servitor,
Jacques Lafenestre.
She laid the letter on the table. "What a shame! It really tells us
nothing."
"Not a thing. Lafenestre might at least have mentioned the date of the
next visit."
"They all seem dreadfully afraid we may learn something." She took up
the other paper and unfolded it. "This is the list."
Then she read:
"Four sacks corn-meal,
Two sacks Graham flour,
Four boxes crackers,
Two barrels potatoes."
"Those must be downstairs," said Pats. "I see the cellar door is open."
Elinor continued:
"One box lemons,
Four dozen candles,
Four dozen Pontet Canet,
Six pounds tobacco--"
"Good!" said Pats. "Just what we need."
She went on:
"Four pounds coffee,
Four boxes matches,
One pocket-knife,
Six pairs woollen socks,
Six old maids--"
"Six _what_?"
"Six old maids: _vieilles filles_--that is certainly old maids."
"Yes, but, Heavens! What does he want so many for? And where are they?
In the cellar?"
She smiled, still regarding the paper. "But you needn't worry. They are
something to wear. It says six old maids, extra thick and double
length."
"Double length! Well, each man to his taste. Go on."
"That is all," and she dropped the paper on the table and looked up into
his face. Thoughtfully he stroked the three days' beard upon his chin.
He was watching through the open door the last clouds of mist as they
floated by, driven before the wind.
Suddenly he jumped to his feet. "Then you were right about the boat! You
_did_ hear one. And it was here an hour ago!"
Quickly he snatched a shotgun from the wall, rushed out of the house,
down to the edge of the point and discharged one of the barrels. He
shouted at the top of his voice, fired the second barrel and shouted
again. For a few moments he stood looking off into the slowly dissolving
fog, listening vainly for an answering sound.
Elinor joined him.
"I know it's of no use," he said, "for the wind is in the wrong
direction. But I thought I would try it."
A moment later the final cloud of mist in which they stood was swept
away, giving a clear view over all the waters to the south. And they
saw, disappearing toward the west, around a promontory, a speck upon the
blue horizon, and behind it a line of smoke.
In a melancholy silence both watched this far-away handful of vapor
until it faded into space. When no trace remained of the vanished craft,
Pats dropped the empty gun, slowly turned his head and regarded his
companion. In Elinor's eyes, as they met his own, he recognized a
gallant effort at suppressing tears. Remembering her resolve of
yesterday he smiled,--a smile of admiration, of gratitude, and
encouragement.
She also smiled, for she read his thoughts. And something more was
plainly written in his face,--that self-effacing, immortal thing that
lovers live on; and it shone clear and honest from this lover's eyes.
Whereupon she stepped forward; he gathered her in his arms, and an
ancient ceremony was observed,--very ancient, indeed, primitive and
easily executed.
Solomon, weary of this oft-repeated scene, looked away with something
like a sigh, then closed his eyes in patience.
[Illustration]