Bet walked quickly through the streets. She pushed back her hair under
her plaid shawl: her eyes looked bright, and her step was once more
firm and erect.
"There are all kinds of love," she kept muttering to herself--"all
kinds-there's the love that gives, and the love that gets. Seems to me
that mine must be the love that gives."
A queer little smile came over her face as this thought entered her
brain. She walked still more quickly, and clenched her strong hand,
while resolution and the noble determination of self-sacrifice gave her
a false strength. Bet was not ignorant of certain verses of the Bible.
She had never read the Bible, for her mother's form of religion had
rendered the idea of looking into its pages distasteful to her; but
words from it had been quoted many times in her poor home, and one of
its verses now floated into her memory: _"Greater love hath no man than
this--that a man lay down his life for his friend."_ The words brought
with them a healing sense of comfort. She really did not know from
where they were taken, but she found herself repeating them, and she
knew that if she really agreed to marry Dent, she would give up far
more than her life for Will. No questionings as to the right or the
wrong of this action came to perplex her--she never for an instant
supposed it possible that Will could prefer prison with the thought of
her waiting for him at the end, to liberty with her lost to him
forever. No, no; sailors, of all men, must be free--free as the wind or
the air. Will must once more go where he pleased, and taste the briny
ocean in salt spray on his lips. Confinement would kill a roving spirit
like his. He would be sorry to have lost her--Bet; but by-and-bye he
would find another lass to comfort him.
Just at present Bet had a sense of exaltation that caused her scarcely
to feel any pain. The worst had now come and was over--her heart beat
calmly; she had nothing further to dread; and she ran quickly up the
stairs to Hester's room, and looked in with almost a bright face.
"I ha' come," she said, drawing her breath fast,--"Dent is found,
Hetty, and Will will be free to-morrow night."
"Oh, how glad I am!" said Hester. She had been making up her fire and
tidying the room before going to rest. She went straight up to Bet,
now, and put one arm round her neck, and raised herself a little to
kiss the taller girl.
"You'll be happy, yet, Bet," she said; "and God knows I'm glad of it."
Bet did not respond to Hester's kiss. She held herself very erect, and
looked down calmly into the singer's eager, enthusiastic face.
"It's a good thing Dent is found," she repeated. "I came to you Hetty,
to ask you ef you'd help me to write a letter to Will. You're more of a
scholard than I am, and I thought maybe atween us I might make my mind
known to the lad."
"For sure, Bet, I'll help you to write," said Hester. "But ef Dent is
found, and witnesses for Will, you'll see him in a few hours, honey;
and it don't seem worth while to put into writing what can be told with
the lips."
"I'll see Will to-morrow," repeated Bet, "for I'll be in the
police-court; but, all the same, it's my mind to put a few words in
writing, so that the lad may know clear what my meaning is. You'll help
me, won't you, Hetty, seeing as you're more of a scholard than me?"
"To be sure I will," said Hester. And going to a drawer, she took out a
penny bottle of ink, an old pen, and a sheet or two of very thin, poor
writing paper.
"Shall I write or will you?" she said, looking up at the girl, who
stood still and upright in the middle of the room.
"Set down, Bet, dear, and take the pen in your own fingers--ef the
letter's for Will, he'd like to have the writing yours. Set down, and
I'll help you to spell out the words."
"No," said Bet; "I ain't a scholard, and my hand shakes. I'll say
what's in my heart, and you'll write it for me, Hetty, dear."
She moved over now to the fireplace, and leaned one elbow on the tiny
mantel-shelf; her face was quiet, but Hester could not help remarking
the absence of hope in her eyes.
"Are you sure that Dent will appear in the witness box?" she asked.
"Seems to me as if he'd scarce dare to; for he'll have to say how he
come by the notes. You know, Bet, and so do I, that he's the real
thief; and ef he appears to clear Will, seems to me he must confess his
own share. Are you sure as he'll do it, Bet?"
"He told father so," replied Bet. "He's deep, and he'll find a way. He
said as he'd do it for a price--it were a heavy one--he wouldn't do it
for nought else; he named his price, and he promised that for that he'd
clear Will."
"I don't see how he's to do it," repeated Hester, looking more and more
dissatisfied. "Dent ain't the man to pop himself into the jail. And a
price? You and Granger han't got any money. It's deceived you are, I
fear me, Bet."
"No," said Bet--"the price is _me_--there ain't no deceit, and his
meaning's quite plain. When Dent saves Will, he's to have me. I'm to
wed him--them's the terms--there ain't no use argufying, Hester; but
it's all plain--Dent will clear Will, and keep out of prison hisself,
for he's as clever as he's bad. And I'm to be his wife. Now you write
the letter."
"That I won't," said Hester, flinging down her pen. "Ef you think I'm
going to break Will's heart, and yourn, too, you're fine and mistook.
Dent is playing the fool on you, Bet Granger; and you're no true lass
to give up Will on any terms."
Hester spoke with great vehemence and passion. She was horrified at
what she considered sacrilege. She could not understand Bet. Rising
from her seat, she pushed her writing materials away, and stooped over
the hearth.
"There," she said, as she poked the little fire--"I'm glad as you has
spoke out your mind. You hate Dent, and you'll marry him; and you'll
give Will his liberty, but you'll break his heart. No, no--I won't
write that letter."
"I'll do the best that I can myself," replied Bet. She was not the
least angry or excited. She sat down by Hester's table, and taking up
the pen dipped it in the ink, and with difficulty began to put her
words on paper. Her head was bent low, and her hand labored; but she
did not pause, nor glance again at Hester. Minutes passed into
half-hours: one--two--three of these went by before Bet, with a burning
flush on one cheek, and the other deadly white, finished her letter.
"There," she said. "You don't understand me, Hetty, but I ha' made it
all clear to Will. Here's the letter. Seal it up for nought but him to
see. When he's free to-morrow, give it to him, Hetty, and don't think
harder than you can help of poor Bet Granger."
She laid the letter on the mantel-piece by Hester's side, wrapped her
shawl again about her head, and went out.