Flood Tide - Part 15
Library

Part 15

"You are surprised then; I thought you would be."

"Surprised? I can't believe it."

"If you'd written as you should have done, you wouldn't have been at all amazed to see me," answered the newcomer severely.

"I meant to write," the culprit a.s.serted uneasily.

"Maybe you will inform me what you are doing on Cape Cod," went on the lady in an accusing tone.

"How did you know I was here?"

"You can't guess?"

"No, I haven't a glimmer."

From the pocket of her sh.e.l.l-pink sweater she drew forth a small white box of startlingly familiar appearance.

"Does this belong to you?" demanded she.

Beneath the mockery of her eyes Robert Morton could feel the color mount to his temples.

"Well, well!" he said, with a ghastly attempt at gaiety, "So you were C. L. G."

"Naturally. Didn't the initials suggest the possibility?"

"No--eh--yes; that is, I hadn't thought about it," he floundered.

"It's funny how things come about sometimes, isn't it? I want you to meet my aunt, Miss Morton, and my friend Mr. Spence. I am visiting here."

Immediately the dainty Miss Cynthia was all smiles.

"So it is relatives that bring you to the Cape!" said she.

Robert Morton nodded. She seemed mollified.

"Didn't Roger write you that we had taken a house at Belleport for the season?" she asked.

"No," replied Bob. "I haven't heard from him for weeks."

"He's a brute. Yes, we came down in May just after I got back from California. We are crazy over the place. The family will be wild when I tell them you are here. My brother," she went on, turning with a pretty graciousness toward Celestina, "was Bob's roommate at Harvard.

In that way we came to know him very well and have always kept up the acquaintance."

"Do you come from the West, same as my nephew does?" questioned Celestina when there was a pause.

The little lady raised her eyebrows deprecatingly.

"No, indeed! The East is quite good enough for us. We are from New York. The boys, however, were always visiting back and forth," she added with haste, "so we have quite an affection for Indiana even if we don't live there." She shot a conciliatory smile in Robert Morton's direction. "Couldn't you go back with me in the car, Bob," she asked turning toward him, "and spring a surprise on the household? Dad's down, Mother's here, and also Grandmother Lee; and the mighty and ill.u.s.trious Roger, fresh from his law office on Fifth Avenue, is expected Friday. Do come."

"I am afraid I can't to-day," Bob answered.

"Why, Bob, there ain't the least reason in the world you shouldn't go,"

put in Celestina.

The young man fingered the package in his hand nervously.

"I really couldn't, Cynthia," he repeated, ignoring the interruption.

"I'd like immensely to come another day, though. But to-day Mr. Spence and I have a piece of work on hand--"

He paused, discomfited at meeting the astonished gaze of Willie's mild blue eyes.

"Of course you know best," Cynthia replied, drawing in her chin with some hauteur. "I shouldn't think of urging you."

"I'd be bully glad to come another day," reiterated Robert Morton, fully conscious he had offended his fair guest, yet determined to stand his ground. "Tell the affluent Roger to slide over in his racer sometime when he has nothing better to do and get me."

"He will probably only be here for the week-end," retorted Cynthia coldly.

"Sunday, then; why not Sunday? Mr. Spence and I do not work Sundays."

"All right, if you positively won't come to-day. But I don't see why you can't come now and Sunday, too."

"I couldn't do it, dear lady."

"Well, Sunday then, if that is the earliest you can make it."

She smiled an adieu to Willie and Celestina, and with her little head proudly set preceded Bob to her car. But although the great engine throbbed and purred, it was some time before it left the gate and flashed its way down the high road toward Belleport.

After it had gone and Bob was once more in the house, Celestina had a score of questions with which to greet him. How remarkable it was that the owner of the missing jewelry should be some one he knew! The Galbraiths must be well-to-do. What was the brother like? Did he favor his sister?

These and numberless other inquiries like them furnished Celestina with conversation for the rest of the day. Willie, on the contrary, was peculiarly silent, and although his furtive glance traveled at frequent intervals over his young friend's face, he made no comment concerning Miss Cynthia L. Galbraith and her silver buckle.

CHAPTER VIII

SHADOWS

In the meantime the two men resumed their labors in the shop, touching shoulders before the bench where their tools lay. They planed and chiselled and sawed together as before, but as they worked each was conscious that a barrier of sudden reserve had sprung up between them, obstructing the perfect confidence that had previously existed. At first the old inventor tried to bridge this gulf with trivial jests, but as these pa.s.sed unnoticed he at length lapsed into silence. Now and then, as he stole a look at his companion, he thought he detected in the youthful face a suppressed nervousness and irritation that found welcome vent in the hammer's vigorous blow. Nevertheless, as the younger man vouchsafed no information regarding the morning's adventure, Willie asked no questions.

He would have given a great deal to have satisfied himself about Cynthia Galbraith. It was easily seen that her family were persons of wealth and position with whom Robert Morton was on terms of the greatest intimacy. It even demanded no very skilled psychologist to perceive the girl's sentiment toward his guest, for Miss Galbraith was a petulent, self-willed creature who did not trouble to conceal her preferences. Her att.i.tude was transparent as the day. But with what feeling did Robert Morton regard her? That was the burning question the little man longed to have answered.

Wearily he sighed. Alas, human nature was a frail, incalculable phenomenon.

How was it likely a young man with his fortune to make would regard a girl as rich and attractive as Cynthia Galbraith, especially if her brother chanced to be his best friend and all her family reached forth welcoming arms to him.

Willie was not a matchmaker. Had he been impugned with the accusation he would have denied it indignantly: Nevertheless, he had been mixed up in too many romances not to find the relation between the s.e.xes a problem of engrossing interest. Furthermore, of late he had been doing a little private castle-building, the foundations of which now abruptly collapsed into ruins at his feet. The cornerstone of this dream-structure had been laid the day he had first seen Robert Morton and Delight Hathaway together. What a well-mated pair they were! For years it had been his unwhispered ambition to see his favorite happily married to a man who was worthy of the priceless treasure.

The Brewster household was aging fast. Captain Jonas, Captain Benjamin, and Captain Phineas were now old men; even Zenas Henry's hair had thinned and whitened above his temples, and Abbie, once so tireless, was becoming content to drop her cares on younger shoulders.

Yes, Wilton was growing old, thought the inventor sadly, and he and Celestina were unquestionably keeping pace with the rest. In the natural course of events, before many years Delight would be deprived of her protectors and be left alone in the great world to fend for herself. She was well able to do so, for she was resourceful and capable and would never be forced to marry for a home as was many a lonely woman. Nor would she ever come to want; the village would see to that. Notwithstanding this certainty, however, he could not bear to think of a time when there would be no one to stand between her and the harsher side of life; no man who would count the championship a privilege, an honor, his dearest duty.