A WAY OUT
"Ida May, you'd better sit down. You look like you'd had a stroke,"
declared the captain.
"Why wouldn't she, the dear child?" cried Prudence. "What do you
suppose is the matter with that girl? Is she crazy?"
"Crazy ain't no name for it," her husband rejoined. "Her top-hamper
is all askew, I cal'late. I never see the beat."
But just now Sheila could not endure any discussion of the strange
girl. She rose as quickly as she had seated herself.
"I must fix supper," she said briskly. "You sit still, Aunt
Prudence. You're flustered, I can see. There is nothing for you to
do."
"That's right," put in Cap'n Ira. "Get a bite ready against Tunis
comes back. He'll want something fillin' after handling that crazy
gal."
He winked at Prudence and nudged her. The outstanding incident for
the old man was the unmistakable signs Tunis and Sheila had given
that they were in love with each other.
"What did I tell ye when that gal first come here?" whispered Cap'n
Ira hoarsely, when the girl had left the room. "I knowed that the
hull generation here on the Cape hadn't been struck blind, not by a
jugful! And it's evident to my mind, Prudence, that Tunis Latham has
had his eyes pretty wide open from the first."
"Oh! I hope--it can't be that Ida May would leave us," murmured
Prudence. "I don't mean to be selfish."
"Looks like we could get another gal easy enough if we wanted her,"
remarked the old man, with some bitterness. "I swan, Prue! S'pose
Ida May had turned out to be the sort of a gal that flyaway critter
is? We are blessed; we certainly are." And he treated himself to a
liberal pinch of snuff.
Sheila did not wish to hear the two old people talk about the real
Ida May Bostwick. When Tunis took the girl away it was an enormous
relief. Of that she was quite sure. The malevolent attitude of the
frustrated Ida May was sufficient to frighten anybody.
Shelia was positive enough that, as Ida May had promised, the matter
was not ended. That venomous girl would not be content to leave Big
Wreck Cove without making a further attempt--perhaps many--to
establish herself in her right identity and in what she considered
her rightful place with the Balls.
Supper was late that evening. They were only just seated at the
table when Tunis returned.
"Come on, boy," said Cap'n Ira. "There's a place set for you. Tell
us what you did with that crazy girl."
Sheila was busy between the stove and the table and did not come to
the side of the captain of the _Seamew_ as he took the chair
indicated. He was not smiling as usual, but neither did he seem
alarmed. He replied to the questions of the old people with
tranquillity.
"I did not advise her to go to the Burchell House," Tunis said. "You
know what a talker Sally Burchell is. I remember that Mrs. Pauling
took boarders in the summer, and I went to her with that girl."
"You mean Zeb's mother?" asked Prudence. "Well, she'll take care of
her, I guess. And Zeb is strong and willing. If she gets crazy in
the night, they ought to be able to hold her."
A faint smile flickered for a moment about Tunis Latham's stern
lips.
"I don't guess she will act up so very bad with strangers."
"I swan! We was strangers enough to her, it would seem," exclaimed
Cap'n Ira.
"But she seems to consider that you ought not to be," Tunis pointed
out.
"Never heard of such a thing!" muttered the old man.
"I would have been glad to get her out of town this very night,"
Tunis observed quietly. "But it could not be done. She is convinced
that she has what she calls 'rights,' and she proposes to remain and
fight for them."
"I swan!"
"You will have to be firm with her. I explained to Zeb's mother what
we thought was the matter with her. And I'll try to find her
friends. She says she comes from Boston."
"Goodness gracious gallop!" exclaimed the old woman, more angry than
frightened now. "She certainly can't stay here and tell those awful
things she was saying about Ida May."
"I don't really see how we are going to stop her, right at first,"
Tunis rejoined. "Of course, if she continues to come up here and
bother you, you can have her arrested."
"Oh!" gasped Sheila.
"Now, gal," said Cap'n Ira firmly, "don't you let your tender heart
deceive you. That crazy critter ain't worth worrying about. She
shan't be hurt. But I won't have her coming round here frightening
you and Prudence. No, sir!"
"Quite right," said Tunis, agreeing.
"Oh, Tunis!" murmured the girl.
"But she will make talk. No doubt she will make talk," said Prudence
in a worried tone. "We ought to stop her, somehow, from telling such
things about our Ida May."
"Does she want money?" asked Cap'n Ira gruffly. "She talked as
though she did."
"I think to offer her money would be the very worst possible way of
shutting her up," said Tunis. "She wants to come here and live and
be accepted as your niece."
"I never did!" gasped Prudence.
"She says nothing else will suit her. She seems to think she can
prove what she had claimed. I think the best thing to do is to let
her try it."
Sheila could not eat. She merely stared from one to the other of the
three and listened to the discussion. In no way could she see a
shadow of escape from ultimate disaster; yet she saw that Tunis was
determined to fight it out on this line, to deny the stranger's
claim and hold to what had already been gained for the girl in
possession!
"Well," Prudence said, with a sigh, "I can see plainly it is going
to stir up a puddle of muddy water. Unless she says or does
something that makes the authorities take her and put her away,
there will be them that will believe her--or half believe her."
"Let 'em talk," growled Cap'n Ira. "'Twon't be the first time Big
Wreck Cove folks got a mouthful to chew."
"But it will hurt Ida May," said Prudence, her voice trembling, as
she squeezed the girl's hand and held it.
"'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt
me,'" began Cap'n Ira. Then he broke off in anger when he saw the
girl's face, and exclaimed: "But, I swan! They'll keep you dodging,
and that's a fact! Ought to be some way of shutting her up, Tunis."
"I don't know how that is going to be done. Not just at first,
anyway. Perhaps something will turn up. And, anyway, she hasn't
begun to talk yet."
"It's like being tied down to one o' them railroad tracks and
waiting for the fast express to come along and crunch ye," grumbled
the old man. "I know how Ida May feels. But you keep a stiff upper
lip, my gal. You've got plenty of friends that won't listen to any
such crazy notions as that other gal's got in her noodle."
In this manner the old folks comforted themselves in part. But
nothing that was said could comfort Sheila. Tunis smoked a pipe with
Cap'n Ira after supper, while the girl cleared off the table and
washed and dried the dishes. Then he got her outside just after he
had bidden Cap'n Ira and Prudence good night.
They walked away silently from the kitchen door into the deep murk
of a starless night. The moaning of a rising sea upon the outer
reefs was the requiem of Sheila's hopes. One thing, she saw clearly,
she must do. If she remained and fought for her place with the
Balls, she must stand alone. Whether or not she held her place, she
must not allow Tunis to be linked with her in this situation. As she
slipped deeper and deeper into the morass, she could not cling to
him and drag him as well into infamy and disgrace.
Away from the house, fully out of earshot from the kitchen, she
halted. Tunis had taken her hand in his warm, encouraging grasp. She
let it remain, but she did not return his pressure.
"Dear, this is dreadful," he whispered, "I know. But leave it to me.
I'll find some way out."
"There is no way out, Tunis," she said confidently.
"Cat's-foot! Don't say that," he cried in exasperation. "There is
always a way out of every jam."
"This girl will do one of two things," said Sheila firmly. "Either
she will prove her claim, or she will give up and go back to Boston.
You know that."
"She'll fight hard, I guess" he admitted.
"Either way, Tunis," the girl pursued, "there is bound to be much
doubt cast upon my character--upon _me_. If the truth becomes known,
I am utterly lost. If it is hushed up, I must go on living a
lie--if I stay here."
"Don't talk that way!" he exclaimed gruffly. "Of course you'll stay
here. If not with the Balls, then with me."
"Stop!" she begged him. "Wait! I am going to state the matter
plainly as it is. We can no longer dodge it. This is the _truth_
which we have been trying to ignore. I have not been foolish only; I
have been wicked. And my greatest sin was in allowing you to link
yourself with me so closely."
"What do you mean?" he gasped.
"Just what I say. It was wrong for me to allow you to be friendly
with me before the Balls and other people. I should not have gone to
your house last Sunday. I should not have allowed you to introduce
me to your Aunt Lucretia."
"Ida May!"
"That is not my name," she whispered. "Let there be no further
mockery between you and me, Tunis. I have been wicked; _we_ have
been wicked. We must pay for what we have done. There is no escaping
that. I must not keep you as my lover, Tunis. I was wrong--oh! so
wrong--last Sunday. Reckless, wicked, drifting with a current, I
scarcely knew where."
"My dear girl--"
"Now I see the rocks ahead, Tunis. I can shut my eyes to them no
longer. Disaster is at hand. You shall not be overwhelmed, as I may
be overwhelmed at any time. I will not have your ruin on my
conscience!"
"My ruin?" he repeated. "Ridiculous! My dear girl, you are talking
like a mad woman. You cannot snap the tie that binds us. You cannot
shoulder all the responsibility for this situation. The sin is as
much mine as yours, if it is a sin. I'm in it as deep as you are."
"You must not be," she cried. "You can escape. You _shall_ escape."
"Suppose I refuse to do so?" And he said it confidently.
"Tunis, I have thought of a way out for you," she cried suddenly.
"I don't want to hear it."
"But you must hear it!"
"I will not accept it."
"You cannot help yourself," she told him firmly. "Oh, I know what I
am about! You may be angry; you will perhaps be laughed at a bit.
But to be laughed at is better than to be scorned."
"What under the sun do you mean, girl?" he exclaimed, both startled
and horrified by her determined words. "Do you think I would desert
you in the middle of the current and swim ashore?"
"But I will desert you. I am determined to desert you. I refuse to
cling to you, a millstone about your neck to drag you down. Ah,
Tunis, whether or not that girl makes her claim good, what you and
I had hoped for cannot be! An explanation must be made of your part
in this frightful affair. That, in itself, must separate you and
me."
"What explanation? There is no such explanation that can be made. I
glory in the fact that we are together in this, Sheila, and whatever
comes of it, we stand or fall together!"
"Ah, Tunis, you _are_ a man! I knew that before. But nothing you can
say will bend my determination. I withdraw all I said to you Sunday
and on Monday morning before you went away. I positively withdraw
all I promised you. It cannot be, Tunis. We cannot look forward to
any happiness when we began so unwisely."
"'Unwisely?' What do you mean?" demanded the captain of the
_Seamew_. "Chance threw us together. _Providence_, I tell you! I
needed you fully as much as you needed me. And surely these poor old
folks needed you, Sheila. Consider what you have been to them."
"It makes no difference in our association, Tunis," she said,
shaking her head.
"Why, that night we talked upon that bench on Boston Common, had I
dared propose such a thing, I would have said: 'Come and marry me
now.' I would, indeed, Sheila."
The girl clenched her hands and drew in a breath. She raised her
face to his, and in the darkness Tunis Latham saw it shine with a
light from within. A great and desperate longing filled her voice
when she cried:
"Oh, why didn't you do just that, Tunis Latham? I would have said
'yes.' And all this--_this_ need not have been."
Swiftly she caught him around the neck, pressed her lips fiercely to
his, while the tears rained down her face, wetting his face as well.
Then she was gone. He heard her sobbing wildly in the dark. He was
alone.