Forrest turned. His face was gray; suddenly older. "I don't stand in your way," he said. "I am just her friend, the one she depends on. That's all. She refused me."
"She refused you?" The Judge laid both hands on the young man's shoulders, compelling his look. "She refused you? And you love her—like this."
Forrest drew away from his detaining grasp. "I must catch that steamer," he said. He went back to his chair and picked up his hat. "Good-by." He lifted his head, smiling a little, and offered his hand; but his glance moved beyond the Judge to the window once more, and he started. "She is here," he added unsteadily. "She is there with her sister on the terrace. Good-by and good luck."
He was gone and the Judge stood regarding the closed door. Then a light step on the threshold of the open window roused him and he turned.
"Good morning, Uncle Silas," she said, "I had to come right in and congratulate you on the election, though Louise told me you were talking business with Paul."
Her glance searched the room. Disappointment clouded her face.
"He was here," answered the Judge. "He hurried away to catch the steamer back to Freeport."
"Why," she said in surprise, "Louise told me he came over with them in the Phantom to hear the returns, and I thought—of course it was expected he would wait to go back with them after the ball. But," and she turned with recovered brightness to the small boy who stood waiting on the threshold, "this is Lem Myers, Uncle Silas. He came to see town and the salt water."
"Good morning," said the Judge, weighing this future voter with speculative eyes. "Good morning. You are just in time for a cruise. To-morrow my nephew will show you what the Phantom can do. I suppose you never have boarded a yacht?"
"Wal, no," Lem moved towards the chair the politician offered, stepping high in new and unaccustomed shoes. "No, I dunno's I hev."