Awed, and in a low voice, Robert Morton read the communication aloud.

"I shall go, of course," he said, with a catch in his voice. "Madam Lee--was very dear to me. Had she been of my own people I could not have cared for her more deeply."

"And I--what shall I do?" questioned Delight. The appeal was to Bob, and the sense of dependence vibrating in it thrilled him with tender gladness.

"I suppose," he answered gently, "it would make your grandmother happy to know you were there. Wouldn't it be a token of forgiveness?"

"What do you think, Willie?" the girl asked.

"I agree with Bob that you should go, my dear," the old man replied.

"Somehow it seems as if your grandmother would rest the sweeter for feelin' you were near by. An' anyhow, it's a mark of respect to the dead. You're bound to show that, no matter how you feel. I'm pretty sure that if you an' your grandmother had had the chance to get better acquainted, you would have loved one another dearly. It was only that it all came too late for you to feel toward her the same as Bob does."

"Perhaps!" Delight returned with half-dazed seriousness.

So it was decided the two young persons would go with the Galbraiths to New York, and the next day they joined the Belleport family and followed the body of the fine, stately old Southern woman to its last resting place. There were no outside friends among the small group of mourners, and the two days of constant and intimate companionship drew them together with a closeness very vital in its results. Delight was received into the circle with a tact and affection that not only put her at her ease but won her heart; and Robert Morton, as Madam Lee's favorite, was as much a part of the family as if he had been born into it. For the time being, the common grief banished from his mind every other thought, and once again he and his old-time friends met without a shadow of distrust between them. Even Cynthia was in her most appealing mood, casting all caprice and artificiality aside and centering most of her attention on her newly acquired cousin. The silent benediction of peace the presence of the dead brought brooded over them all, and it was with no perfunctory tenderness that Delight bent and gently kissed her grandmother's cold forehead.

Then came the journey back to Belleport, and as Mr. Galbraith, Roger, and Howard Snelling were all detained in New York, it was Bob who brought the party home. In the meantime no opportunity had presented itself for broaching to the financier the subject of Willie's invention. The interval during the funeral rites was too inopportune, and Robert Morton had lacked both the inclination and the courage to break in upon such an occasion with an affair so sordid and unpleasant.

He had hoped that during the return to the Cape some chance for a talk with the capitalist would be afforded him. But now there was no help for it but to go back to Willie Spence's with the weight still heavy on his heart. Mr. Galbraith, he learned, would have to remain in the city two weeks or more; and an important business deal would keep Mr.

Snelling at the Long Island plant indefinitely. Hence for the present there was not a possibility of clearing up the mystery. It was, however, significant that Snelling evidently considered his part of the work done; and if Janoah's accusations were founded on fact, as they appeared to be, it was not surprising that he seized upon the confusion of the present as a fortunate cover for his exit from Wilton.

The more Robert Morton pondered on the train of events, the less willing he became to connect Mr. Galbraith with the purloining of Willie's idea. The financier had intended to do precisely what he had specified, lend a friendly hand to the old man's scheme. It was Snelling who had seen in the circ.u.mstance something too promising to let pa.s.s and who, without his employer's knowledge, had made bold to secure the device for his personal profit. In the meanwhile, ignorant that Robert Morton was cognizant of his cupidity, he was as debonair as if he had nothing on his conscience. He made himself useful in every possible direction, and on parting from Bob at the train declared he should look forward with the greatest antic.i.p.ation to their future business a.s.sociation together. How the young man longed to confront the knave with his crime! It seemed almost imperative that before the mischief proceeded farther steps should be taken to stop it. But what proofs had he to present?

No, a middle course was the only thing possible, Bob decided. He must return to Willie's roof with the atmosphere uncleared and finish the little that still remained to be done on the invention as if no shadow clouded his sky. He could not leave Willie in the lurch. Furthermore, it was out of the question for him to depart from Wilton until he had come to an understanding with Delight Hathaway. The intimacy of the past week, with its lights and shadows, had only served to render stronger the bonds that bound him to her. In every issue the network of strange events had developed her character, and displayed facets of such unsuspected force and splendor that where beauty had at first fascinated it was now the soul behind it that called to him. Truly Madam Lee had in this grandchild a worthy descendant, and it brought an added joy to his heart to thus link together the two beings he loved most deeply.

Therefore he made the journey back to Wilton, bravely resolved to bear Janoah's taunts and Willie's silent reproaches until the moment came when he could acquaint Mr. Galbraith with Snelling's perfidy and see the injustice righted. It was not an enviable position, the one in which he stood. He felt it to be only human that in the face of this acid test the old inventor's affection and allegiance toward him should waver, and that Janoah would detect and rejoice in its unsteadiness.

But as Bob relied upon ultimately solving the conundrum, he felt he could endure a short interval of unmerited distrust. It was in Delight and Tiny, who were unconscious of any false note in his relation to the household, that he placed his hopes for aid. Hence it was with no small degree of consternation that on reaching Wilton he learned that the girl had resolved now to return to her own home.

"I have been here over two weeks already," she said to Bob, "and I really am needed by my own family. They miss me dreadfully when I am gone. Zenas Henry goes down like a plummet, Abbie says. And then I have so much to tell them! Besides, now that Aunt Tiny is well again, there is no use in my remaining."

"There is a great deal of use in it for me!" a.s.serted the young man moodily.

"Nonsense! You and Willie have your work, and in a day or two you will be so buried in it you won't know whether I am here or not."

"Delight!"

A warning echo in the word and a quick forward movement caused her to add hurriedly:

"And--and--anyway, you can come up to our house and see me there. You will like the three captains and Abbie, you simply can't help it; they are dears! And you will worship Zenas Henry--at least you will if he is--I mean sometimes he doesn't--well, you know how older men feel when younger ones appear. He is very devoted to me and he is always afraid-- But I am sure he will understand, and that you and he will get on beautifully together," she concluded with scarlet cheeks.

The clumsy explanation had a dubious ring and Bob frowned.

"You see, your being Aunt Tiny's nephew will help some; he likes her very much. And of course any friend of Willie's and--and--of mine--"

With every word the formidable Zenas Henry increased in formidableness.

She saw the scowl deepen.

"You will come and see me, won't you?" she pleaded timidly. "I should be sorry if--"

Robert Morton caught the slender hand and held it firmly.

"I'll come were there a thousand Zenas Henrys!"

"That's nice!" she answered with a nervous laugh. "There won't be a thousand, though. There never can be but one as good and as dear as he is! Only remember, you mustn't come right away. I shall have a great deal to tell them at home, and it won't be easy for Zenas Henry to face the fact that the Galbraiths have any claims on me. It has always been his pride that I had no relatives and belonged entirely to him. And I do, you know," she went on quickly. "Nothing on earth shall take me from Zenas Henry! I worried a good deal lest Madam L--lest my grandmother should insist that I spend part of my time with her. But that is all settled now. I can keep up my friendship with the Galbraith family by calls and short visits, and everything will go on as before. I don't want anything changed."

The young man saw her draw in her chin proudly. "Of course I have forgiven my grandmother," she went on, "but I never can forget that she made my mother's life unhappy and that she was unkind to my father. So I never wish to accept any favors from any of them."

"But the Galbraiths are not to blame for the past," ventured Bob, his loyalty instantly in arms.

"No. But they are Lees."

"Your grandmother was sorry--bitterly sorry," urged the young man in a persuasive tone. "It was probably her regret that caused her death."

The girl nodded sadly.

"I know," she said. "I realize she lived to regret what she had done.

I am not blaming her. But for all that, she never can mean to me what she might have meant. Rather I shall always think of her as a handsome, stately old lady who was your friend and loved you."

She turned to leave him, but he refused to let her go.

"Delight," he cried, drawing her closer, "will your grandmother be dearer to you because she loved me? Tell me, sweetheart! Do I mean anything in your life? You are the only thing that matters in mine."

He saw a radiance flash into her wonderful eyes, and in another instant her head was against his breast.

"It is only because of you, Bob," she whispered, clinging to him, "that I can forgive the Lees at all."

CHAPTER XVIII

THE PROGRESS OF ANOTHER ROMANCE

The ecstasy that came to Robert Morton with his new-found happiness swept before it the clouds that had overcast his sky, until his horizon was almost as radiant as it had been on the day of his arrival at Wilton. Janoah Eldridge came no more to the Spence cottage; Snelling had vanished; the Galbraiths were occupied with their own affairs; and the barrier between Bob and Willie began slowly to wear away. The little old man was of far too believing and charitable a nature to hold out long against his own optimism; moreover, he detested strife and was much more willing to endure a wrong than to harbor ill feeling; hence he was only too ready to reconstruct Janoah's venomous story into terms of his native blind faith. He did not, to be sure, understand, and for days and nights he puzzled ceaselessly over the problem events presented; but as no light was forthcoming, his zest in the enigma cooled until the mystery took on the unfathomable quality of various other mysteries he had wrestled with and finally shelved as unanswerable. There was the invention to finish, and so eager was he to see it completed that to this interest every other thought was subordinated. Therefore, although misgivings a.s.sailed him, they gradually receded into his subconsciousness, leaving behind them much of the good will he had formerly cherished toward Robert Morton.

The olive branch Willie tacitly extended Bob seized with avidity. Had not the world suddenly become too perfect to be marred by discord?

Why, in the exuberance of his joy he would have forgiven anybody anything! He did own to bruised feelings, but time is a great healer of both mental and of physical pain, and the hurts he had received soon dimmed into scars that carried with them no acute sensation. His mind was too much occupied with Delight Hathaway and the wonder of their love for him to think to any great extent of himself. The romance still remained a secret between them, for so vehement had been the turmoil into which Zenas Henry had been thrown by the tidings of the girl's past history that it seemed unwise to follow blow with blow and acquaint him just at present with the news of the lovers' engagement.

Moreover, there was Cynthia Galbraith to consider. Robert Morton was too chivalrous to be brutal to any woman, much less an old friend like Cynthia.

Hence he and Delight moved in a dream, the full beauty of which they alone sensed. Their secret was all the more delicious for being a secret, and with all life before them they agreed they could afford to wait. Nevertheless concealment was at variance with the character of either, and although they derived a certain exhilaration from their clandestine happiness they longed for the time when their path should lie entirely in the open, when Zenas Henry's consent should be obtained, and their betrothal acknowledged before all the world. Until such a moment came an irksome deception colored their love and left them in constant danger of discovery. Indeed, had the observer been keen enough to interpret psychic phenomena, there was betrayal in the soft light of Delight's eyes and in the grave tenderness of her face; and as for Bob, he felt his great good-fortune must be emblazoned on every feature of his countenance.

In point of fact, no such condition prevailed. The girl returned to her home and took her place there, bringing with her her customary buoyancy of spirit; and if her light-heartedness was more exaggerated than was her wont, those who loved her attributed it to her joy at being once more beneath her own roof-tree. Zenas Henry and the three captains fluttered about her as if her absence had been one of years rather than of days; and even Abbie, less demonstrative than the others, showed by a quiet satisfaction her deep contentment at having the girl back again.

Of course Robert Morton let no great length of time elapse before he climbed the hill and invaded the Brewster home. As Celestina's nephew and Willie's guest he had credentials enough to a.s.sure him of a welcome, and for an interval these sufficed to give him an enviable entree; but after a few calls, his winning personality secured for him a place of his own. He inspected Captain Phineas Taylor's broken compa.s.s and set it right; he discussed rheumatism and its woes with Captain Benjamin Todd; he lent an attentive ear to the nautical adventures of Captain Jonas Baker. Abbie, who was a systematic housekeeper, approved of his habit of wiping his feet before he entered the door and the careful fashion he had of replacing any chair he moved; most men, she averred, were so thoughtless and untidy. But it was with Zenas Henry that the young man won his greatest triumph, the two immediately coming into harmony on the common ground of motor-boating. Most of the male visitors who dropped in at the white cottage came only to see Delight, but here was one who came to call on the entire family. How charming it was! They liked him one and all; how could they help it? And soon, so eagerly did they antic.i.p.ate his coming, any lapse in his visits caused keen disappointment.

"I kinder thought that Morton feller might be round this evenin',"

Captain Phineas would yawn in a dispirited tone, when twilight had deepened and the familiar figure failed to make its appearance above the crest of the hill. "Ain't it Tuesday? He most always comes Tuesdays."

"Tuesdays, Thursdays, an' Sat.u.r.days you can pretty mortal sure bank on him," Captain Benjamin would reply. "If he's comin' to-night, he better be heavin' into sight, for it's damp an' I'll have to be turnin'

in soon."