"Married to your sister?"
"Yes, captin; it was his name she wouldn't give up. She sot there on the gallows with that marriage writing in her bosom, and let the women sneer at her without a word, all to save that villain from disgrace. When she fainted away in my arms after they took her down, the old woman found this a lying agin her heart. I took it out, and swore an oath to search the sarpent out; but his father told me that he'd gone off on a whaling ship afore she was took up, and didn't know nothing about it, so I waited. But I'm on his track now. He's on this 'ere continent, and I'll find him, or die on the hunt. Don't look so skeered, little Paul; you haint got nothing to do with this; so you needn't look at a chap in that 'ere pitiful way, no how. I aint mad with you, if I didn't shake hands."
"But Rose, poor Rose," pleaded the boy.
Rice looked kindly on the little girl. "Poor gal, poor little critter," he muttered, shaking his head; "but what is her suffering to his'n, I should like to know. If his heart isn't broke, I don't know the signs. Come, captin, don't look so down in the mouth; we've both got a job afore us, and had better be a doing uv it."
Mason stood with his back to the group, gazing heavily on the earth.
"She thought I was dead; he told her so; and, perhaps, believed it. The wretch persecuted her before she was married. She was alone and destitute—a widow—very proud, and so helpless. Poor Ellen."
"Come, captin, my heart burns like a live coal. I long to be after the villain," said Rice.
"Be after him—oh, yes; but where? He is your sister's husband—that paper proves it. Legally married—and yet—and yet——"
He paused—cold shudders crept through his frame—tears of agony heaved his chest—then the might of his grief broke forth, and covering his face with both hands, he wept like a little child.
"Captin—Captin Mason, I say, look up—don't, don't—I can't stand it," cried Rice. "It's bad enough to see a woman cry; but this 'ere is more than I can bear, darn me if it aint."