His uncle pushed him back with a sweep of his arm.

"Steve," he ordered, "I'm runnin' this ship." He gave a quick glance at his niece, and then added, speaking rapidly and addressing the head of the Dunn family, "I see, ma'am. Yes, yes, I see. Well, you've forgot one thing, I guess. Caroline's lived in high society, too. And I've been in it a spell, myself. And Steve's a boy, but he's got a business head. If there's nothin' in marriage but business, then an engagement is what I just called it, a business contract, and it can't be broke without the consent of both sides. You wanted Caroline's money; maybe she wants yours now. If she does, and there's such a thing as law, why, perhaps she can get it."

"That's the talk!" cried Stephen exultingly.

"Yup; perhaps she can. She may be a business woman, too, you know. If money and style and social position's what counts and she wants to force you to keep your promise, why, I'm her guardian and she can count on me to back her up. What do you say, Caroline? I'm at your service. I--"

But Caroline interrupted him.

"Stop!" she cried wildly. "Oh, stop! Do you think--do you suppose I would marry him now? _Now_, after I've seen what he is? Oh," with a shudder of disgust, "when I think what I might have done, I.... Thank G.o.d that the money has gone! I'm glad I'm poor! I'm _glad_!"

"Caro, you fool!" shrieked Stephen. She did not heed him.

"Let me go!" she cried. "Let me get away from him; from this room! I never want to see him or think of him again. Please! _Please_ let me go!

Oh, take me home! Captain Warren, _please_ let me go home!"

Her uncle was at her side in a moment. "Yes, yes, dearie," he said, "I'll take you home. Don't give way now! I'll--"

He would have taken her arm, but she shrank from him.

"Not you!" she begged. "Steve!"

The captain's face clouded, but he answered promptly.

"Of course--Steve," he agreed. "Steve, take your sister home. Mr.

Sylvester's got a carriage waitin', and he'll go with you, I don't doubt. Do as I tell you, boy--and behave yourself. Don't wait; go!"

He held the door open until the hysterical girl and her brother had departed. Then he turned to the Dunns.

"Well, ma'am," he said, dryly. "I don't know's there's anything more to be said. All the questions seem to be settled. Our acquaintance wa'n't so awful long, but it was interestin'. Knowin' you has been, as the feller said, a liberal education. Don't let me keep you any longer. Good afternoon."

He stepped away from the door. Malcolm and his mother remained standing, for an instant, where they were when Caroline left.

The young man looked as if he would enjoy choking someone, the captain preferably, but said nothing. Then Mrs. Dunn bethought herself of a way to make their exit less awkward and embarra.s.sing.

"My heart!" she said, gasping, and with a clutch at her breast. "My poor heart! I--I fear I'm going to have one of my attacks. Malcolm, your arm--quick!"

With an expression of intense but patient suffering, and leaning heavily upon her son's arm, she moved past Captain Elisha and from the room.

That evening the captain stood in the lower hall of the apartment house at Central Park West, undecided what to do next. He wished more than anything else in the world to go to his niece. He would have gone to her before--had been dying to go, to soothe, to comfort, to tell her of his love--but he was afraid. His conscience troubled him. Perhaps he had been too brutal. Perhaps he shouldn't have acted as he did. Maybe forcing the Dunn fleet to show its colors could have been done more diplomatically. He had wanted her to see those colors for herself, to actually see them. But he might have overdone it. He remembered how she shrank from him and turned to her brother. She might hate him more than ever now. If so, then the whole scheme under which he was working fell to pieces.

He was worried about Steve, too. That young man would, naturally, be furious with his sister for what he would consider her romantic foolishness. He had been warned to behave himself; but would he? Captain Elisha paced up and down the marble floor before the elevator cage and wondered whether his visiting the apartment would be a wise move or a foolish one.

The elevator descended, the door of the cage opened, and Stephen himself darted out. His face was red, he was scowling fiercely, and he strode toward the street without looking in his guardian's direction.

The captain caught him as he pa.s.sed.

"Here, boy!" he exclaimed; "where's the fire? Where are you bound?"

His nephew, brought thus unexpectedly to a halt, stared at him.

"Oh, it's you!" he exclaimed. "Humph! I'm bound--I don't know where I'm bound!"

"You don't, hey? Well, you can cruise a long ways on a v'yage like that.

What do you mean?"

"Aw, let me alone! I'm going to the club, I guess, or somewhere. Anyhow, I won't stay with her. I told her so. Silly little idiot! By gad, she understands what I think of her conduct. I'll never speak to her again.

I told her so. She--"

"Here! Belay! Stop! Who are you talking about?"

"Caro, of course. She--"

"You've run off and left her alone--to-night? Where is she?"

"Upstairs--and crying, I suppose. She doesn't do anything else. It's all she's good for. Selfish, romantic--"

He got no further, for Captain Elisha sent him reeling with a push and ran to the elevator.

"Eighth floor," he commanded.

The door of the apartment was not latched. Stephen, in his rage and hurry, had neglected such trifles. The captain opened it quietly and walked in. He entered the library. Caroline was lying on the couch, her head buried in the pillows. She did not hear him cross the room. He leaned over and touched her shoulder. She started, looked, and sat up, gazing at him as though not certain whether he was a dream or reality.

And he looked at her, at her pretty face, now so white and careworn, at her eyes, at the tear-stains on her cheeks, and his whole heart went out to her.

"Caroline, dearie," he faltered, "forgive me for comin' here, won't you?

I had to come. I couldn't leave you alone; I couldn't rest, thinkin' of you alone in your trouble. I know you must feel harder than ever towards me for this afternoon's doin's, but I meant it for the best. I _had_ to show you--don't you see? Can you forgive me? Won't you try to forgive the old feller that loves you more'n all the world? Won't you try?"

She looked at him, wide-eyed, clasping and unclasping her hands.

"_I_ forgive _you_?" she repeated, incredulously.

"Yes. Try to, dearie. Oh, if you would only believe I meant it for your good, and nothin' else! If you could only just trust me and come to me and let me help you. I want you, my girl, I want you!"

She leaned forward. "Do you really mean it?" she cried. "How can you?

after all I've done? after the way I've treated you? and the things I've said? You must _hate_ me! Everyone does. I hate myself! You can't forgive me! You can't!"

His answer was to hold out his arms. Another moment and she was in them, clinging to his wet coat, sobbing, holding him fast, and begging him not to leave her, to take her away, that she would work, that she would not be a burden to him--only take her with him and try to forgive her, for he was real and honest and the only friend she had.

And Captain Elisha, soothing her, stroking her hair, and murmuring words of love and tenderness, realized that his labor and sacrifice had not been in vain, that here was his recompense; she would never misunderstand him again; she was his at last.

And yet, in the midst of his joy, his conscience troubled him more than ever.

CHAPTER XX