She looked up with smiling gladness.
That afternoon she had fallen asleep in the big chair. How almost transparent she was. The long lashes lay on the whiteness of her cheek—yes, it was really white. And there was very little color in her lips.
Abner Hayes came up from the warehouse with some papers the Ulysses had just brought in.
"That the captain's poor little girl?"
"Yes; she's asleep. She hasn't been very well this winter, but the first nice balmy day I shall take her out driving. I've been almost afraid to have the air blow on her."
"Yes, she ought to live and enjoy all that big fortune. It's a thousand pities the captain couldn't have come back and enjoyed it with her. But we must all go when our time comes. You never hear a hard word said about him, and sure's there's a heaven he is in it."
Chilian held up his finger. Then he signed a paper that had to go back, and asked if the cargo of the Ulysses was in good shape.
Elizabeth called him downstairs after that. There was a poor man wanting some sort of a position and Chilian promised to look out for him. He had been porter in a store, but the heavy lifting made him cough. He would have to get something lighter.
When he returned Cynthia was standing by his table, white as a little ghost. He almost dropped into the chair.
"Was I dreaming, or did that man say my father couldn't come back to Salem, that he—that he was——"