For a moment Fessenden could only stare. Then he gave a long whistle.
"This Maryland climate is--extraordinary!" he remarked to the horizon.
Miss Yarnell mounted the pair of steps from the cabin to the level of
the cockpit, and seated herself on the lockers.
"I simply had to come," she explained.
"Marvellous impulsion!"
"I'm not welcome, then?"
"I'm afraid you've guessed it."
"Obstinate--man!"
"Artful--woman!"
"You are a very chilly person. I think I'll begin to hate you pretty
soon."
"Really!"
"Now that I'm here, you might as well make the best of it. Please, sir,
I'll try to be very agreeable and entertaining, if you'll only be kind
to me."
"You'd move a heart of stone, but mine's a diamond. You're always
charming--I admit that freely--but I can't consider that in this
particular situation. No, no. 'Off with your head; so much for
Bolingbroke.'" He braced the wheel against his knee and began to haul in
the sheet.
"You're going back?"
"Yes."
"To put me ashore?"
"Right, my lady."
"Then you intend to sail off again to--to do what you like?"
"Humanly speaking, yes."
In spite of the heeling deck she rose abruptly, her eyes wide and
resolute.
"Mr. Fessenden, I'm going with you this afternoon, wherever you go. If
you take me back to the landing, I won't go on shore. You'll have to use
force, and I warn you I'll resist, and I'm strong for a woman. I
solemnly vow I'll make a dreadful scene. And I'll scream, and I can
scream _hideously_!"
Her words were utterly convincing. He let go the sheet and stared. "By
Jove! you _are_ a terror. What in the world is all this about?"
"Never mind."
"But you make me mind. Surely all this can't be a mere freak on your
part. Or is it a joke?"
"No. I've a reason for my--my very unlady-like conduct."
"Strike out the adjective. But what's the reason?"
"I'd rather not tell." She resumed her seat, as if she thought the
victory won. Her eyes dwelt on the lines of his powerful figure, well
set off by his gray flannels. "You are a distinctly good-looking man,
but obstinate."
"And you're a remarkably lovely girl, but eccentric; very--eccentric."
"You don't know my reasons."
"I've asked for them."
She laughed evasively. "Isn't it about time to come about?" she said.
"It is. But how do you know that? Are you a witch?"
"In with the weather braces," she commanded. "Stand by to tack ship!
Ready about! Helm's a-lee! Round we go, now. Make fast! All snug, sir."
Accompanying her rather uncertain display of nautical language with a
pull at the sheets that proved her strength, she gave Fessenden her
assistance in bringing the _Wisp_ before the wind.
Afterward there was silence between them for a long time. The knots
slipped away under the keel of the little yacht, and she drew rapidly in
toward land. Fessenden consulted his watch. It was half past five. He
decided that it was time to land--time to send his unwelcome visitor
away, and to keep his appointment with Betty for supper at White
Cottage.
Miss Yarnell examined the little binnacle beside the wheel.
"Due east," she said sombrely, "almost. If you go back to Sandywood, Mr.
Fessenden, remember, I've given you fair warning."
"Fear not, mademoiselle. Far be it from me to force you to try your
screaming powers on me! I shudder at the thought. No, no. Do you see
that cape two or three points south of east? Piney Point, it's called.
That's the place I'm aiming for. Are you content?"
"Perfectly content."
She met his puzzled frown with a faint smile. "You beat the Dutch," he
declared in an injured tone.
It was just six o'clock when the _Wisp_ grounded gently on the sandy
beach of Piney Cove. The westering sun flung red bands across the pine
woods, here growing almost to the water's edge.
Fessenden led a line ashore and made it fast to a convenient tree. "Now,
Miss Yarnell," he smiled, "the voyage is over. I'll really have to ask
you to leave me--with my thanks for a delightful afternoon, after all.
If you follow the bay shore, you'll be at Sandywood in half an hour, I
fancy."
She had joined him as he stood on the beach. "Thank you," she said
gravely, "but I'm going with you."
"Really, this is rather--rather----"
"Impossible," she supplied. "Yes, I'll agree to anything you like to say
of me, but, Mr. Fessenden, it's very important for me to go with you--to
your appointment."
He stared, bewildered not only by her audacity, but by her apparent
knowledge of his plans.
"Do you deny that you have an appointment with some one near here?" she
demanded.
"I don't deny it. But what if I have? This is too ridiculous! I don't
know how you know where I'm bound, but--I don't want to be rude, Miss
Yarnell--but even if you do know, I don't see how it matters to you."
"It does matter to me," she said, sudden passion in her voice. "It
matters terribly."
Her suppressed excitement, her entire seriousness, could no longer be
doubted.
"I don't understand," he said. "I think you must be making some
mistake."
"No, no. I don't know exactly where you're going, I admit, but I know
who it is you're going to see."
He felt a baffling sense of amazement over an impossible situation. "Who
is it, then?" he demanded.
"Please, _please_ don't let us mention names. But I know. Mr. Fessenden,
I recognized the envelope that boy brought up yesterday."
"The envelope? O-oh! You did?"
"Yes. I've seen that style of envelope too often not to know it. Now do
you understand why I want to go with you?--why I _must_ go?"
"I'm as much at sea as ever. Why?"