"I am not surprised," he said; "I even hoped you would take him.

However, it's too late now, and if you hadn't much liking for Aynsley I wouldn't have urged you."

"I was sure of that," Ruth said with an affectionate glance.

"How did Clay take your refusal of his son?"

"I think he took it very well. He paid me a compliment as he went away."

She noticed her father's look of relief, and it struck her as being significant.

"You have reason to feel flattered," he said, "because Clay's apt to make trouble when he is thwarted. For all that, it's unfortunate your inclinations didn't coincide with his wishes."

"Why?" Ruth asked sharply.

Osborne looked amused at her bluntness.

"Well, I really think Aynsley has a good deal to recommend him: money, position, pleasant manners, and an estimable character. Since you're not satisfied, it looks as if you were hard to please."

"I have no fault to find with him," Ruth answered with a blush. "Still, one doesn't make up a list of the good qualities one's husband ought to have."

"It might not be a bad plan," Osborne said humorously; "anyway, if you could find a man to meet the requirements." He dropped his bantering manner. "I'm sorry you dismissed Aynsley, but if you are satisfied that it was best, there's no more to be said."

He turned away, and Ruth pondered what she had heard. It was plain that her father shrank from offending Clay; and that seemed to confirm the vague but unpleasant suspicions she had entertained about their business relations. Somehow she felt that not yet had she got at the bottom of her father's dealings with that man.

CHAPTER XVI-A GHOST OF THE PAST

It was the evening before Aynsley's departure, and he and Clay and the Osbornes were sitting on the veranda. Not a breath of wind was stirring, and the inlet stretched back, smooth as oil and shining in the evening light. The tops of the tall cedars were motionless; not a ripple broke upon the beach; the only sound was the soft splash of water somewhere among the trees.

The heat had been trying all day, and Aynsley glanced languidly at the faint white line of snow that rose above the silver mist in the blue distance.

"It would be cool up there, and that snow makes one long for the bracing North," he said. "This is one of the occasions when I don't appreciate being a mill owner. To-morrow I'll be busy with dusty books, in a stifling office that rattles with the thumping of engines."

"It's good for a man to work," Miss Dexter remarked.

"No doubt, but it has its disadvantages now and then, as you would agree if a crowd of savage strikers had chased you about your mill. Then, if it weren't for my business ties, I'd send the captain word to get steam up on the yacht, and take you all to the land of mist and glaciers, where you can get fresh air to breathe."

"Wouldn't you miss the comforts, though I dare say you call them necessities, that surround you here? One understands that people live plainly in Alaska."

Miss Dexter indicated the beautifully made table which stood within reach, set out with gla.s.ses and a big silver tankard holding iced liquor. Round this, choice fruit from California was laid on artistic plates.

"We could take some of them along; and we're not so luxurious as you think," Aynsley replied. "In fact, I feel just now that I'd rather live on canned goods and splash about in the icy water, like some fishermen we met, than sit in my sweltering office, worrying over accounts and labor troubles."

"Those fishermen seem to stick in your memory," Ruth interposed.

"Is it surprising? You must admit that they roused even your curiosity, and you hadn't my excuse because you hadn't seen them."

"What fishermen were they?" Clay asked.

Ruth wished she had not introduced the subject.

"Some men he met on an island in the North," she said with a laugh.

"Aynsley seems to have envied their simple life, and I dare say it would be pleasant in this hot weather. Still, I can't imagine his seriously practising it; handling wet nets and nasty, slimy fish, for example."

"It wasn't the way they lived that impressed me," Aynsley explained. "It was the men. With one exception, they didn't match their job; and so far as I could see, they hadn't many nets. Then something one fellow said suggested that he didn't care whether they caught much fish or not."

"After all, they may have been amateur explorers like yourself, though they weren't fortunate enough to own a big yacht. I don't suppose you would have been interested if you had known all about them."

"Where was the island?" Clay broke in.

Aynsley imagined that Ruth was anxious to change the subject, and he was willing to indulge her.

"I remember the lat.i.tude," he said carelessly, "but there are a lot of islands up there, and I can't think of the longitude west."

Clay looked sharply at Osborne, and Ruth noticed that her father seemed disturbed.

"I guess you could pick the place out on the chart?" Clay asked Aynsley.

"It's possible. I don't, however, carry charts about. They're bulky things, and not much use except when you are at sea."

"I have one," said Osborne and Ruth felt anxious when he rang a bell.

She suspected that she had been injudicious in starting the topic, and she would rather it were dropped, but she hesitated about giving Aynsley a warning glance. His father might surprise it, and she would have to offer Aynsley an explanation afterward. Getting up, she made the best excuse that occurred to her and went into the house. She knew where the chart was kept, and thought that she might hide it. She was too late, however, because as she took it from a bookcase a servant opened the door.

"Mr. Osborne sent me for a large roll of thick paper on the top shelf,"

the maid said.

As she had the chart in her hands, Ruth was forced to give it to the girl, and when she returned to the veranda Aynsley pointed out the island. Ruth saw her father's lips set tight.

"What kind of boat did the fellows have?" Clay asked.

"She was quite a smart sloop, but very small." Aynsley tried to lead his father away from the subject. "At least, that was the rig she'd been intended for, by the position of the mast, but they'd divided the single headsail for handier working. After all, we're conservative in the West, for you'll still find people sticking to the old big jib, though it's an awkward sail in a breeze. They've done away with it on the Atlantic coast, and I sometimes think we're not so much ahead of the folks down East-"

"What was her name?" Clay interrupted him.

Aynsley saw no strong reason for refusing a reply, particularly as he knew that if he succeeded in putting off his father now, the information would be demanded later.

"She was called _Cetacea_."

Ruth un.o.btrusively studied the group. Miss Dexter was frankly uninterested; and Aynsley looked as if he did not know whether he had done right or not. Osborne's face was firmly set and Clay had an ominously intent and resolute expression. Ruth suspected that she had done a dangerous thing in mentioning the matter, and she regretted her incautiousness; though she did not see where the danger lay. For all that, she felt impelled to learn what she could.

"Was it the island where you were wrecked?" she asked Clay.

He looked at her rather hard, and then laughed.