SUSPICIONS
This was not the last talk that Kenneth and Luther Williams had
together, for often the older man would come upon the younger, sitting
before his sketching easel or with color-box in hand, climbing the
cliffs, or it might be that they would meet upon that solitary and
silent spot at the end of the island where it seemed most fitting that
serious things should be discussed. In consequence of this outlet to
his feelings, Kenneth, after this, displayed himself to Gwen in his
most sunny moods, his graver, more morbid ones being reserved for the
nights when he and Luther Williams stood side by side, the moaning sea
before them.
As time went on many excursions were planned. Mr. Mitchell hired a
motor boat which was put into use nearly every day, and was seen
skimming the space between Fieldings and Jagged Island, or was started
early for a cruise up the bay. Sometimes there would be a shore dinner
at the Neck, or a picnic on one of the lovely islands within reach.
There were seldom less than half a dozen in the party, and often as
many as twenty would start out in a sail-boat for a day's pleasuring.
Kenneth's sister, Mrs. Fleming, frequently joined the others, and her
two children were seldom left behind. Mrs. Fleming was an unoffensive
little person, devoted to her babies, amiable and chatty, though not
very intellectual. Her prettiness and sweetness always won her a
welcome, and she was pressed into service as chaperon oftener than any
one else.
It was for one of these expeditions that Cephas Mitchell started out to
look up his party one afternoon. He had already secured an acceptance
from Ethel Fuller, had engaged Miss Henrietta Gray as chaperon, and was
now in search of Gwen. He did not find her at Wits' End, so he wandered
down toward the rocks and at last recognized the blue linen suit and
white hat which he knew she wore. She was bending over a small pool
in the rocks, the home of various little sea creatures to whom each
returning tide brought gifts. Feathery green mosses waved in the clear
water, strangely colored star fish languidly made their way through
a forest of sea-weed to the shelter of an overhanging ledge, purple
or pink crabs scuttled across the rocky floor to sink out of sight in
a bed of brown kelp. Far under the jutting shelves of their watery
home anemones and sea urchins clung to the shadowy retreats which they
recognized as places of safety. The little barnacles were everywhere,
finding refreshment at each new influx of the sea.
Although Gwen did not raise her head, she had seen the angular figure
of Cephas Mitchell springing down the rocks. She had also seen some one
else coming in an opposite direction, and she smiled. She knew each was
bent upon some plan for the afternoon's enjoyment. "I'll leave it to
fate," she said to herself. "I shall accept the first invitation from
whichever it may be." She trailed her fingers through the salty water,
and prodded a little star-fish from his hold upon the rocks. There
was a hint of excitement in her action, for she was determined not to
give herself the opportunity of watching the two men who were trying
to find her. "I wonder whose voice I shall hear first," she was saying
to herself when she felt the near presence of some one who greeted her
with "Good afternoon, Miss Whitridge. Lovely day, isn't it?"
Then from just overhead some one called down to her: "Oh, Miss
Whitridge, can you go sailing? Mr. Williams wants to take us out, and
your aunt says she will go."
Gwen rose to her feet and looked up to see Kenneth Hilary's eager
face bending over the cliff, while at her side stood Cephas Mitchell
regarding her ruefully, conscious that the other's lack of ceremony had
given him precedence. "You haven't any other engagement, I hope," said
Kenneth.
"No," Gwen acknowledged, "and I'll go with pleasure. When do we start?"
"In half an hour. Mr. Williams is bringing the boat around to Capt.
Purdy's wharf."
"Dear me," Mr. Mitchell began, "I'm too late. I wish I'd found you five
minutes sooner, for I, too, wanted you to go out this afternoon. Cousin
Henrietta and Miss Fuller are going and--" He turned to Kenneth with
sudden inspiration. "Couldn't we all go together in the motor-boat, and
leave your sailing-party for to-morrow?"
"I'm afraid not," returned Kenneth. "You see it isn't my sailing-party,
but Mr. Williams'. We go by his invitation, or I would ask you to join
us."
Mr. Mitchell, discomfited, turned upon his heel, saying over his
shoulder, "The next time, Miss Whitridge, I shall take time by the
forelock."
"I hope you'll have a lovely time," said Gwen cheerfully. "Too bad to
disappoint you, Mr. Mitchell, but Mr. Hilary spoke first, you see."
"Oh, I did see," returned Mr. Mitchell.
"He's in a regular huff," said Kenneth coming down to where Gwen stood.
"Would you rather have gone with the other party? I was so afraid of
losing you that perhaps I didn't allow you any choice."
"I'd always rather go with Mr. Williams than anyone," returned Gwen,
"and it will do Mr. Mitchell good not to get his own way for once. I
fancy he is rather unused to such an experience, being a forceful sort
of person in matters of business."
"That's why he succeeds. One must be very direct and prompt of course,
in order to get ahead in this world."
Gwen laughed. "Then I am sure you ought to succeed, for anything more
direct and prompt than yourself on this occasion it would be hard to
find. When I first saw you coming Mr. Mitchell was yards nearer."
Kenneth smiled. "Did you see? I shouldn't have imagined it. I was
conscious that he would reach you first if I came down to a level with
you, so the only way to out-general him was to run along the bluff and
hail you from above. What were you so absorbed in looking at?"
"One of these delightful little pools that are a perfect joy to me.
There are some further out that one can reach only at low tide. Aren't
they fascinating? A sort of dream world, a fairy haunt. See those tiny
bright points of blue, where the light strikes that bunch of moss.
Could anything be more brilliant? There is such a variety of color in
these pools. Have you ever studied them closely? You have no idea how
much vegetable and animal life one such small spot as this can contain."
"I've observed them less closely than you, I'm afraid, though I have
always found them interesting. Are you ready for the sail? Shall you
not need a warm wrap? Shall I get it for you?"
"I'd better get it myself, but you may come with me. I am glad Aunt Cam
consented to go. She usually has a hundred excuses. I never knew anyone
take to housekeeping and home furbishing with such zest. But she has
always had absorbing interests of some kind, and cannot do anything by
halves. This is one of the blue days, isn't it?"
"You don't mean mentally, I hope."
"Oh, dear, no, I mean--but you can see for yourself--a day when only
the sea is bluer than the sky. When everything sparkles and vibrates
because the atmosphere is so clear. It will be a fine afternoon for a
sail."
"That is what Mr. Williams said. Just enough wind to keep us going, and
not enough to be too cold."
"Where are we to go?"
"Somewhere up along Middle Bay. Mr. Williams directed me to say that we
were to bring no eatables, for this is his party. That is a remarkable
man to find in these parts, Miss Gwen. He seems in a wrong sphere here,
yet I think he loves the life and scarcely misses what a larger world
can furnish. I often wonder how he came to drift here."
"So do I. When I first knew him I used to try to draw him out to speak
of his early life, but later I concluded to respect his secret whatever
it may be, and I think he is grateful that I don't show curiosity. He
is a remarkable man in many ways, a great reader and an intelligent
one. I notice his choice of books shows him to have tastes above what
one would expect."
"It isn't only in that way that he shows his clear mind," responded
Kenneth, "but on the deeper questions of life he shows himself a
thinker. He seems tremendously fond of you, Miss Gwen, and I believe he
has taken in me as a friend, too."
"His kindness to us is almost embarrassing sometimes. Aunt Cam and I
have discussed it, however, and have come to the conclusion that I must
remind him of some one he cared for, a mother, a wife, a sweetheart, so
we accept everything now, for the sake of whomever it may be."
"I don't doubt that you are correct in your surmise. He seems like a
man who has passed through great sorrow and has come out of it uplifted
and purified."
"I am sure it is so, and therefore we must allow him the small comfort
of doing for us what he will. I will see if Aunt Cam is ready, Mr.
Hilary, and will get my jacket."
It was not long before she returned, with Miss Elliott, prepared for a
sail. Gwen had exchanged her blue linen for a dark corduroy skirt and
jacket, and had wound a yellow scarf around her neck. Kenneth looked
at her admiringly, saying to himself, "She is always picturesque in
whatever she wears."
They took their way over the uneven pasture to the road beyond, from
which they turned aside to follow a straggling path leading through
tall growths of clover, wild roses and big-eyed daisies, to the little
landing where the boat lay moored. Luther Williams' illumining smile
greeted them as they stepped down the gangway, and in a few minutes
they were gliding out of the cove into the bay beyond. Leaving Eagle
Island on their left they swung past the long narrow neck of land,
which thrust itself out like a curving finger from the mainland,
and were soon in the quieter waters of Middle Bay, with Goose and
Goslings in sight and the ocean no longer visible. By wooded shores and
green-clad islands they sailed till they reached a small point of land
around which the vessel was steered to be moored at last in a placid
harbor.
"Now we'll have supper," said Luther Williams, who had been talking
little, but had given his attention to sails and soundings. He set
ashore a large hamper, helped Miss Elliott and Gwen to land, and,
leaving the vessel at anchor, they all went a little further inland to
find a fairer camping ground than any they had yet discovered. So still
it was that the fall of a leaf, the movement of a bird on a twig, the
tap of a hammer on some distant building, the lapping of the water on
the pebbles were the only sounds they heard.
"What a heavenly spot!" cried Gwen. "When I want to escape the terrible
rush of civilization as found on Fielding's Island, I shall come here.
How did you discover it, Mr. Williams?"
He smiled. "I found it years ago, and, as you say, when I want to
escape from oppressive civilization I come here. There are times," he
added, "when in spite of your ironical remark, even Fielding's Island
is too much for me. I am treating you as trusty friends, you see, when
I discover to you my retreat."
"Then when I can't find you in your usual haunts I shall know where you
are," Gwen said, "but I shall not tell. There was a day, not very long
ago, when no one knew your whereabouts, not even Miss Phosie; she can
generally tell."
Mr. Williams made no answer, but began unpacking the basket, bringing
to view several boiled lobsters, roast chicken, biscuits and butter,
cakes, fruit, and, last of all, a can of coffee, a bottle of cream
and a box of candies. "He never got all those things this side of
Portland," whispered Miss Elliott. "I know those biscuits are not
island-made, neither are the fruit and cake native productions. What
are you doing now, Mr. Williams?" she called out, as she saw him piling
up some stones.
"Building a fireplace," he said. "We must make our coffee, you know."
She watched him deftly build his fire, using some dry driftwood of
which he had a store, then he set the water to boil in an old kettle
he produced from a hiding place in the rocks. As he bent over the
primitive fireplace, the smoke enveloping him in a blue atmosphere, she
suddenly leaned forward and made a slight exclamation.
"What's the matter, Aunt Cam?" asked Gwen anxiously. "Do you feel ill?
You looked so startled--or sort of queer."
"No, no," was the reply, "I thought--I saw--"
"Not a snake?" Gwen drew her feet up under her.
"Dear me, no--I hope he'll not upset the coffee now that it is nearly
ready."
"Is that all?" laughed Gwen. "You looked so serious I thought something
tragic was about to happen. I am glad it was only anxiety about the
coffee, though I admit it would be a tragedy to lose it now that we
are yearning for it. Does anything give you such an appetite as a good
sail? I shall expire with hunger, Mr. Williams, if I don't have a
lobster claw pretty soon."
He broke off one, cracked it with a stone, and offered it to her.
"There is a whole one waiting for you," he said.
"But I could never manage a whole one. I shouldn't dare attempt to
dissect it. I should be sure to get some of those queer gray, whiskery
things in my mouth."
"Then I'll do the dissecting," he promised. "As you may imagine, I am
an old hand at the business."
"Twenty years it has been since you came to the island, hasn't it?"
spoke up Miss Elliott.
"Very near," was the quiet reply.
"You must have been an enthusiastic fisherman in the first place,"
remarked Miss Elliott.
"I used to enjoy it when I was a boy off on holidays in summer,"
returned Luther Williams, breaking off the shell from the lobster he
held.
"But you must have preferred it to any other occupation in life, to
have given up everything to come here, a man of your intelligence, Mr.
Williams."
Gwen looked with surprise at her aunt. What did she mean by pressing
home a subject upon which they had agreed to be silent?
"Did you never hear of a man's letting himself drift, Miss Elliott?"
said Mr. Williams calmly. "Sometimes it is a relief to go with the
tide. If you had been battling with a single oar against wind and
waves, for days, and at last had stepped into a quiet harbor, you
might be satisfied to stay there and--just fish."
"Good!" said Gwen to herself. "I'm glad he made that answer. What is
the matter with Aunt Cam that she is suddenly so inquisitive? It isn't
like her. Coffee, please," she said to change the subject. "It must be
ready by this time. Four cups? What a fine picnic this is! Aunt Cam
and I only take one and drink out of it by turns. This is certainly
a very high-toned feast." She rattled on, casting furtive glances
once in a while at her aunt and Luther Williams. The former sat, with
lips compressed, stirring her coffee; the latter's face wore its most
serious look. "Haven't you all had enough?" suddenly exclaimed the
girl. "I want Mr. Williams to take me to the top of this hill to see
what's on the other side. Mr. Hilary, you can entertain Aunt Cam.
She doesn't look as if she were thoroughly enjoying herself. I have
devoured all of these good things that I can, but I shall want some
candies when we come back, so please don't eat them all. Come, Mr.
Williams." She bore him forcibly away, hanging on his arm, and making
nonsensical speeches till she had brought back the smile to his face.
At the top of the hill they emerged from the grove of slim birches to
come out upon an open field. The sky overhead was dappled with pink,
while gold, purple and crimson colored the west. The sunset flecked the
waters of the bay with wonderful tints, and, where the tide had receded
leaving the flats shining wet, the colors were reflected in burnished
streaks. The further islands were misty green, the nearer ones radiant
in the glory of the departing light. "How beautiful!" cried Gwen. "I
have always thought nothing could exceed the effect of certain sunsets
over the cove, but this is beyond words. I don't know," she added after
a moment, "but that I give the palm to our island as a steady thing,
though I do hope I can come here often."
"This is a rare effect," Mr. Williams told her. "You see we can't
always have such a sunset, and it isn't always low tide at just this
hour. The combination is for your express benefit. I'll show you
something else if you will come here." He took her by the arm and led
her a little away to where, through the trees, the glory of a rising
moon met their sight sending long silver beams across the water beyond.
"That too!" exclaimed Gwen. "It's almost too much, isn't it?"
"Nature never gives too much," returned her companion. "She is very
chary at times, and again, as this evening, she overpowers us with her
generosity, but it is only on occasions that she is so lavish. She
knows how to withhold as well as how to be prodigal."
Gwen turned with shining eyes. "If I had a father, Mr. Williams," she
said, "I'd like him to be just like you."
A spasm of pain passed over the fisherman's face. He took her hand in
his and looked down at it where it lay, slender and fine in his big,
strong knotty fingers. "If I could choose a daughter," he said slowly,
"she would be just like you."
"Thank you," returned Gwen. And they went down the hill together.