"I'm sure she does--when she loves anybody."
"And yet it may seem very strange. I am worried out of my senses. I
don't know what to do."
She was silent for a long time, looking away from him and twisting
her hands in her lap; she was plainly searching her soul for
inspiration--and courage!
"You think she will understand the situation?" he insisted.
"She ought to."
"But no word from me! Silence for weeks!"
Her voice was low, but she evidently had found courage. "I have not
heard one word--not a letter has come to me--since I left my aunt's
home."
"Do you feel sure that he loves you just the same? You don't need
letters?"
"Oh no! I don't need letters."
"But in my case?"
"I could see that she loves you very much. She stood out before them
all, Captain Mayo. That sort of a girl does not need letters."
"You have put new courage in me. I believe you understand just how a
girl would feel. You know a Yankee! He expects to find a friend just
where he left him, in the matter of affection."
"A girl does not need to be a Yankee to be that way in her love."
"I can't sneak around to her by the back way--I can't do that!" he
cried. "I don't want to be ashamed of myself. I don't want to bring
more trouble to her. Don't you think she will wait for me until I can
come--and come right!"
"She will wait for you, sir. It's the nature of women to wait--when they
love."
"But I cannot ask her to wait forever. That's why I must go away and
try to make good." He set his teeth, and his jaw muscles were ridged.
"I believe a man can get what he goes after in the right spirit, Miss
Polly." He swing off the porch and left her.
The fog was heavy on shore and sea that day, holding the Ethel and May
in port. He disappeared into the stifling mist, and the girl sat and
stared into that vacancy for a long time.
Mayo rowed out to the schooner, which was anchored in the harbor roads.
He was carrying his accounts to Captain Candage.
Standing and facing forward as he rowed, he came suddenly upon a big
steam-yacht which had stolen into the cove through the fog and was
anchored in his course. She was the Sprite, and he had formed a
'longshore acquaintance with her skipper that summer, meeting him
in harbors where the Sprite and Olenia had been neighbors in the
anchorage. He stopped rowing and allowed the dory to drift. He noted
that the blue flag was flying at the main starboard spreader, announcing
the absence of the owner, and he understood that he could call for the
skipper without embarrassing that gentleman. One of the crew was putting
covers on the brasswork forward.