Caleb True lived quietly on in his way, which called for no criticism, aroused no comment, enjoying the while the respect of those who knew him. He might have been the miller, the town gardener or an unassuming deacon in one of the churches, but, as it was, he had lived very long in the family of Lucy’s father, tended the garden and cared for the household during the week, and upon the Sunday he proudly officiated as sexton in one of the village churches. To Lucy he had been a second father, and to him in childhood she went for sympathy as she grieved over some fancied injustice done her. Caleb had known the romance of her school days, and he was now in full possession of the innermost thoughts of her soul, although she had not confided to him that the longing of the returned love of her girlhood was driving her forward in a mad desire to discover his whereabouts.
While Caleb chatted with the fishing guides and river men at Tyno’s Point he gained the information that for several days past the same quickly speeding boat observed by Lucy had passed and re-passed among the islands, going from place to place with a restlessness and uncertainty of route altogether unusual among the frequenters of the perch banks or the haunts of the wily pike. Once they had touched at the Point, but only to inquire of the landlord for a lodging should they wish to return. “Handsome and strong,” they said that he was, “and with the air of a city stranger; but again swiftly they glided away, and into the nearest rushes, where soon was hid from them the beautiful skiff of the boatmen, but they saw over the tops of the swaying reeds the heads of the wandering oarsmen as they crossed to the Caristitee, and from there later, as the darkness came upon them, the light of their camp fire shone on the point of the island.”
At once Caleb confided to Lucy the hopes which had risen within him, and together they hurried to pursue them. Soon they had crossed the Schneil Channel. Onward they sped, in their haste going through the narrow passes cut by a current of swift running waters feeding the expanse of a broad lagoon. Meanwhile Caleb, a poor match for the fleet-winged oarsmen who unconsciously fled away in the distance, was fast exhausting his strength.
CHAPTER XXI.
Under the Initialed Tree.
Coming at last to the island, they saw the remains of a camp fire, and fluttering by the side of the charred rocks Lucy discovered among the ashes the remains of a half-burnt parchment, upon which had been written an address, and still upon the fragment, but discolored, was a name which to Lucy had been lost but never forgotten. To Caleb in breathless haste she ran with the paper.
“Look,” she cried, “‘tis the name of LeClare, of my Edmond! My heart tells me truly, he is here in the lakes of St. Francis. Among the islands of the Archipelago we must go search for him. True love will seek out the path of his wanderings, and before the passing of another sun two thirsting spirits shall unite, to wander no more in darkness.”