Then an event happened that took Cynthia's entire interest for a while. This was the return of Captain Corwin. He came up the walk one day—quite a grizzled old fellow it seemed, with the sailor's rolling gait—and looked at her so sharply that she had a mind to run away.
"Oh, Captain Anthony's little girl," he cried. "You have forgotten me. And it ain't been so long either."
She thought a moment and turned from red to white. Then she stretched out both hands and cried, her eyes and voice full of tears:
"Oh, you couldn't bring him back!"
"No, little Missy. He'd shipped for the last time before I'd reached there and gone to a better haven. He was the best friend I ever had. But he knew it long afore, and that was why he wanted you safe with friends."
"I know now." She brushed the tears from her eyes.
"And I hope you've been happy."
"I waited and waited at first. Sometimes I wished I was a bird. Oh, wouldn't we have a lovely time if we could fly? And one time in the winter I was quite ill—it was so cold and I did get so tired of waiting. Then Cousin Chilian told me he had gone to mother and I knew how glad she would be to see him. I had some nice times. Cousin Chilian loved me very much. So did Cousin Eunice. I think Cousin Elizabeth would if she had lived longer, but she went away, too. Oh, I've done so many things—studied books, and taken journeys, and made friends, and painted pictures, flowers, and such. And I've tried to paint the sea, but I can't make it move and seem like a real sea."
"Oh, Missy, how smart you must be!"
"There are so many things I don't know," she laughed. "And now tell me about yourself and why you did not come back."