A CALL UNANNOUNCED
Cap'n Ira and Prudence did not see Sheila again that evening, for
she slipped in by the kitchen door after they had gone into the
sitting room and went up to her own chamber. They heard her mount
the stairs and marked the tread of her light feet overhead.
The girl was not thinking of the old people just then. Their need
entered into her determination to remain if she could. But this
night was one time when Sheila Macklin thought almost altogether of
herself and her personal difficulties.
Her present and acknowledged love for the young captain of the
_Seamew_ had been of no mushroom growth. She might not say, as Tunis
did, that she had fallen in love at first sight. But very soon after
meeting the young shipmaster from Big Wreck Cove she had appreciated
his full value and realized that he was far and away the best man
she had ever met.
Indeed, in that moment when Tunis Latham had caught Sheila in his
arms as she had slipped in front of the restaurant on Scollay
Square, the girl's mind had been stabbed through by such a poignant
feeling, such a desire to know more about him, that she was actually
frightened by the strength of this concern.
She knelt before her north window with the frosty air breathing in
like a balm upon her fevered body, and strained her eyes for a
glimpse of the light that always burned in Tunis' window when he was
at home. It was a long time before she saw it. For Tunis Latham had
walked about the fields a long time after she left him, and it was
late when he finally entered the big brown house behind the cedars.
Aunt Lucretia, who had been expecting him, after she had seen the
_Seamew_ heading for the cove that afternoon, was still sitting in
the kitchen when her nephew entered. Composed as the man's features
were, there was still an expression upon them which startled the
woman. It brought her out of her chair, even if it did not bring an
audible question to her lips.
"I was delayed, Aunt 'Cretia," he said. "No; nothing new about the
_Seamew_ or about business. It's--there's trouble up to the Balls'."
He knew her first thought would be for the health of the two old
people, and he had to explain a little more.
"They are all right--Cap'n Ira and Aunt Prue. It's about Sh--Ida
May."
"Tunis! Nothing has happened to the girl?"
He must take Aunt Lucretia into his confidence--at least, to some
extent. Just how much could he tell her? How much dared he tell her?
From somebody, he felt sure, she would hear about this other girl
who had appeared to claim kinship with the Balls and demand that
Sheila give over to her the place she had with Cap'n Ira and
Prudence. For Ida May Bostwick was going to talk. Tunis knew that
well enough. Although he had warned her sternly that evening against
talking, he knew well enough that after the girl had recovered from
her first fright she would spit out the venomous tale that she had
already concocted in her mind about Sheila and himself.
He could not bring himself to confess to Aunt Lucretia all the truth
about his first meeting and subsequent association with Sheila.
Indeed, he hoped he would never be obliged to tell it.
But he must tell Aunt Lucretia nothing but the truth. He did this by
beginning at the coming of the real Ida May Bostwick to the Ball
house that afternoon and her claim to Sheila's place with the
family. As he told the story, Aunt Lucretia gazed upon him so
fixedly, so intently, that the captain of the _Seamew_ was
disturbed. He could not understand her expression.
Perhaps he told the story haltingly of how Ida May had been turned
out and he had taken her back to the port and housed her with Mrs.
Pauling. He made few comments, however; he left Aunt Lucretia to
draw her own conclusions. It was not until he had quite finished
that she spoke again.
"That crazy girl, is she--"
"I don't know that she's crazy," said Tunis gruffly.
"It would seem so. Does she look like Ida May?"
Tunis started. The question seemed to probe into a matter that he
had not before considered. But he shook his head negatively.
"Nothing like her," he said. "Reddish hair. Brown eyes--or kind of
brown. When she's maddest there are green lights in 'em. Not nice
eyes at all."
Aunt Lucretia nodded and said no more upon that point. What her
question had dealt with in her own mind, Tunis could not guess. She
watched his face, now pale and sadly drawn. Then she placed a firm
hand upon his arm to arouse his attention.
"Tunis! This--this girl at Cap'n Ira's is something to you?"
"My God! Aunt 'Cretia, she's _everything_ to me," he groaned, his
reticence breaking down.
"Is she a good girl, Tunis?"
"As good as gold. On my honor, there was never a nobler or better
girl. I--I love her!" The words burst from him now in a great gush
of emotion. These Lathams, when they did break up, often ran over.
"I can't tell you the hold she has on me. If I lose her through this
or any other cause, I'm done for!
"She thinks she isn't good enough for me. She is afraid of this girl
who claims her place. She fears that I am going to be looked down on
if I have anything more to do with her. And I tell you, if she was
not the girl I know her to be, I would still cling to her. I must
have her. I tell you, I must!"
Tears came to his eyes. His voice, hoarse and broken, carried to the
woman's heart the knowledge that the one and overpowering passion of
the man's life was rampant within him. What or whoever the girl at
the Ball homestead might be, Tunis Latham was bound to her by ties
which could not be broken.
She did the thing most generous; quite in accordance with her
unselfish disposition. She stepped nearer to her nephew and put her
arms about his neck. She kissed him. She gave no further evidence of
doubt or disapproval. Indeed, when he left her to go to his room, he
was assured that, however the world might look upon him, Aunt
Lucretia was his supporter.
The girl in the Ball house saw the glimmer of his lamp that night
for a very few minutes. There was a day's work before him, and
Tunis Latham, like other hard-working men, must have his sleep.
Sheila kept the night watches alone. She went to bed, but the lids
of her eyes could not close. Sleep was as far from her as heaven
itself. She went over the entire happenings of the previous
afternoon and evening with care, giving to each incident its
rightful importance, judging the weight of each word said, each look
granted her. Did the Balls suspect her in the least? Had the story
Ida May Bostwick told made any real impression upon their minds?
No! She finally told herself that thus far she was secure. Ida May
must bring something besides assertion to influence the minds of the
two old people. And if she had had documentary proof in her
possession yesterday, the new claimant would have shown it.
Nobody carries about with him birth certificate or memoranda of
identification and relationship. If Ida May had been warned of what
she was to meet at the old house on Wreckers' Head, without doubt
she would have tried to equip herself in some such way for the
interview.
It might be very difficult for the girl to obtain any evidence that
would assure the Balls of her actual relationship to them. Sheila
had foreseen this possibility from the first. She was still quite
determined to hold on, to make the other girl do all the talking
and all the proving. She herself would rest upon the foundation of
her establishment in the place Ida May Bostwick claimed.
The latter certainly could not know Sheila's true history. Sheila
was as much a stranger to Ida May as she had been to the Balls when
Tunis had brought her to Wreckers' Head.
And then, suddenly, a thought seared through the girl's mind.
Something that Ida May Bostwick had said just before Tunis hurried
her out of the house!
"I believe I've seen her before. Somehow, she looks familiar."
These two sentences, spoken in Ida May's sneering way, had made
little impression on the excited Sheila at the time they were
spoken. But now they made the girl's heart beat wildly.
Suppose it were true! Suppose Ida May should really remember who
Sheila was? It was not impossible that the girl from the lace
counter of Hoskin & Marl's knew of Sheila's disgrace.
Sleep was not within her reach. The long hours of the night dragged
past. Dimly dawn crept along the dark line of the horizon, circling
all her world as far as Sheila could see it from her bed. But it was
still dark below her north window when she caught the sound of a
familiar step, the crunch of gravel under Tunis' boot.
She lay shaking for a moment, holding her breath. She heard the tiny
pebbles rattle upon the window sill. For the first time she had not
been downstairs to greet Tunis on his way to the port. Could she let
him go now without a word?
But she must! She must be firm.
Nevertheless, she slipped softly out of bed. The pebbles rattled
again. She caught up a dark veil from her bureau and wrapped it
about her face. She crept to the north window. The veil would mask
her face so that he could not distinguish it in the shadow.
But she could look down upon him. She saw him standing there so
firmly--so determinedly. His was no nature to give over easily
anything he had set his heart on. All the more reason why Sheila
should not appear to weaken.
She crouched there breathlessly as he tossed up more pebbles. Then
she heard him sigh. Then he turned slowly away, and his feet dragged
off along the path, and he went out of sight.
The girl crept back into bed. She hid her face in the pillow and dry
sobs racked her frame. This was the hardest of all the hard things
she had to do. She had wounded Tunis to the heart!