XI

So near had Danton been to Fessenden's thoughts that he was able

instantly to connect the Baltimorean's presence with the shopkeeper's

talk of the people from the steam yacht. He was the first to speak.

"Where's Betty?"

"She's with my wife--on the _West Wind_."

"Your wife?"

"Yes. I was married two days ago."

"Danton! You--married? You're joking, old man."

"Not in the least. I was married last Sunday--to Madge Yarnell."

"Madge Yarnell! What!"

"Is Mrs. Charles Danton," said the other.

Fessenden was too dumfounded to do aught but stare. His friend slipped

an arm through his and turned him about.

"There's room for us on the bench there. Let's talk it over. Madge and

Betty are doing the same down in the sand-hills now."

Fessenden yielded without a word, and they seated themselves on the

bench.

Danton was a man under thirty years. He was slight and pale, and had

much of the abrupt manner of that ancestor who had come to Baltimore in

the train of Jerome Bonaparte, and who, like his master, had found a

wife there.

"You're really married?" said Fessenden. "By Jove! I can't get over it.

To Madge Yarnell, too. Then what in the world has become of--of--ah--"

"Of a certain other lady?" appended his friend with perfect coolness. "I

don't blame you for wondering about her. But never mind now. I want to

tell you about my wedding. It was unique in the history of the

Chesapeake, I promise you." His laugh had a ring of heartiness that

surprised his listener. "Tom," he went on, "I'll be frank with you. I've

been in more than one crooked path in my time, but I'm through with that

sort of thing. Thank Heaven!"

The other's amazement found expression. "I swear I don't know you.

What's come over you?"

"Love," said Danton simply. "Madge's love, and all that it means. She

says she has told you of that tearing down the flag matter last year.

That proved to me and to her that I owned _her_--I'd known for a long

time that she owned _me_, you understand--but after that affair she sent

me away, and I, in revenge, went after--I was a cad, I know. Well, I

hope I'll never be again."

"About your wedding, old man?"

"I'm coming to that--and I'll skip the long story between. Last

Saturday, after Madge met you and Betty on the road, she galloped to

Sandywood Station, and sent me a reply to the wire I'd sent you."

"A bit cool, that."

"I've got it my pocket now. Here!" He read the bluish slip, smiling

faintly the while.

CHARLES DANTON

The Club, Baltimore.

Impossible to come, but understand. She promises to be _West

Wind_ eight o'clock Sunday night, ready.

"Hum! What did that mean?"

"It meant that I thought I understood. I thought that you had discovered

the--the Other Lady, in the farmhouse where she was hiding from me. I

believed she'd told you to tell me she was ready--at last. I'd had the

_Wisp_ stored for that very reason, you know, and then shifted to the

_West Wind_ because it was larger and more seaworthy, in case _she_

wanted to go right across to Gibraltar."

"Was it as near a thing as that?"

"No matter now. The result of the telegram was that I was at Polocoke

landing and aboard the _West Wind_ by eight o'clock Sunday night. I give

you my word I never dreamed of a trick--who would?"

"I don't see----"

"You will in a moment. My skipper, Williams, met me as I came aboard.

'She's below, sir,' he said, 'and gave orders we were to put to sea just

as soon as you turned up.' Faithful soul! He didn't know he'd been

tricked either--doesn't know it yet, for that matter. He'd run away with

the Queen of India if he thought I wanted it done. 'Right,' I told him.

'Shove off, and go full speed as soon as you're clear.' With that, I

dived down into the main cabin. She wasn't there, and I looked into my

stateroom. I couldn't see her there either, so I stepped to the inner

stateroom--the two connect, you understand--where I thought she must

be."

He smiled soberly at Fessenden's interested face. "Tom," he said, "every

word I'm telling you is for your soul's good. It's all the truth, but

it's a parable, too--for you. Well, as I reached the doorway between the

two rooms, somebody seized both my elbows from behind. By George! She's

as strong as a man."

"What! Not----"

"Yes, Madge."

"Great Scott! I begin to have a glimmer."

"I had just time to see that it _was_ Madge before she pushed me

inside--into the inner room--and slammed the door behind me. It locked

with a spring."

"She was outside?"

"Yes, in my room. I was inside that."

"I understand."

"Precisely. I fancy I don't need to tell you much more. I was a prisoner

in my own yacht, and that yacht headed full speed down the bay, my men

acting upon what they thought were my own orders. A lovely girl was in

my room. I was as much separated from her as if I were in the moon, but

my own crew couldn't know that, and neither could the world."

"She's a heroine."

"She is--the most adorable in the world! She talked to me through the

closed door. What she said--well, that's only for her and me. I saw at

last what a mad fool I'd been. Then--then she threw herself on my

mercy."

"You seem to have played the man."

"She'd make a man of a snake! I saw myself in my true light at last; and

I understood her at last. God bless her!"

"Amen!"

"We ran on down to Old Point Comfort, and the chaplain at the fort

married us that same night."

The two men shook hands.

"After we left Old Point," went on Danton, "we cruised about a bit, got

mussed up by the storm, and ran in here. And then you--you and _Betty_

appeared."

His emphasis brought a penetrating look from Fessenden.

"You said you were telling me a parable. You don't mean--surely you

can't--Betty!"

"I do."

"Do you dare to think----"

"I don't think anything. What I say is that my case furnishes a parallel

to yours."

"Speak out, man! What! You mean you think I ought to marry her?"

"Well, then--yes."

"Good God! Marry Betty!"

"Yes."

Fessenden rose abruptly to his feet and walked away a few paces. He

stared unseeingly across the stretch of sand to the sea beyond.

A hundred images of Betty flitted before his mind's eye--images graceful

and smiling, sad and gay, merry and serious, always infinitely winsome.

Her voice sounded in his ear--teasing, angry, kind--always low-toned and

charming.

He faced Danton. "Marry her? I've been wanting to do that very thing

since the first minute I saw her--only, I didn't know it."

His friend's face shone with relief and pleasure. He broke into a boyish

laugh.

"Great!" he said. "You're the right sort, Tom. I knew it, and I told

Madge so."

Fessenden could not respond to the other's mood. "All very well. But

what will Betty say?"

"Ask her."

"I intend to. But is she old enough--is she in a position--to

understand?"

"I tell you, yes."

"And I tell you I'm very doubtful. A mere child, a country girl,

ignorant of the world, ignorant, perhaps, of what marriage means! It's a

hard position for me, and it may be worse--it may be horrible--for her."

"Ask her," repeated Danton. "Look there!" He levelled his walking-stick.

"Do you see the dunes there--the second hill? Somewhere beyond that

you'll find Madge and Betty."

Without another word, Fessenden pulled his cap over his eyes and strode

off.

He skirted the first hillock, and on its farther side came abruptly upon

Madge Danton. She gave him a warm hand. Her eyes had lost their defiant

look; rather, it seemed to him, they included the world in their gentle

glance.

"You'll find her beyond the next hill," she said.

"You've talked to her--as Danton talked to me?"

"Yes. She understands--her position. I know I don't need to warn you to

be--careful."

"No, no."

He did not find Betty beyond the next hill, nor the next. But, hastening

down the hollow ways, he almost stumbled over her at last--on a sunny

slope above the sea.

She looked up at him, her eyes as clear as crystal. "Hello, Boatswain

Bob!"

The greeting steadied him immeasurably. He knew that not so much what he

should say in the next few minutes, as how he should say it, might

determine the course of their lives. He longed with all his strength to

be given a divine tact and a divine gift of speech.

He threw himself on the sand at a respectful distance. "Hello, Nancy

Lee!"

Thanks to Kitty Hawk's "Bazaar," a scarlet ribbon again shone at Betty's

throat. Her hair was as he had last seen it--coiled superbly about her

head. Again he felt the air of dignity and aloofness of which the coiled

hair seemed the symbol.

Fessenden's eyes, quiet and tender, met her own, his glance as clear as

hers.

"Betty," he said, very simply, "we've been through a lot together, and I

want you to marry me. Will you? Don't think I'm asking you because of

any chivalrous fancy. I want you because I love you, and for nothing

else in the world." His own words fired him. "Dearest, I've loved you

since the first minute I saw you. You know that--in the bottom of your

heart, you know that's true."

Her eyes, which at first had met his unwaveringly, quailed a little. The

red crept slowly into her cheeks.

[Illustration: ALL THE CHIVALRY IN FESSENDEN'S NATURE STIRRED AT HER

WORDS]

"I'm only a--a country girl," she said. "And you're the famous Mr.

Thomas Fessenden. I didn't know your real name until Madge told me, you

know."

"Will you marry me, Betty?"