"I know what has occurred, my dear," he said anxiously. "Mr. Fewster has been speaking to you. And your answer?"
"I have no need to tell you, father," said Ellen, raising her eyes to his. She said nothing of the bribe Fewster had offered for her love.
George Marvel saw that Ellen had refused Mr. Fewster, and he nodded grave approval; yet, from a sense of justice, was compelled to ask,--
"Have you considered all the circumstances, Ellen? Have you considered the future?"
"I don't know," she answered; "I only know that I have done what is right, and what is due to my dear Joshua's memory."
All this was Greek to Dan, and it had to be explained to him. He listened in silence, and was very thoughtful afterwards. He let the matter drop, however, until he and Ellen were alone; and then he told her, gently and by degrees, of his belief that Joshua was not lost, and of his earnest desire to go over the seas and commence a new life. She, listening eagerly, almost breathlessly, pressed his hand to her lips and kissed him again and again, and was absolutely so simple as to share his belief. Hope revived within her; and when Dan said, "You are not widowed yet, dear; of that I feel assured," she blessed him for the words in which there was no reason.
Other troubles came. Solomon Fewster, strong in cunning, made a new move in the game. His orders began to fall off, and in a short time he bought one bird where formerly he had bought three. Perhaps he thought, "If love won't drive Ellen into my arms, necessity may." It was a cruel device, mean and merciless, and it struck fresh terror to their hearts. They could do nothing; but wait and watch the tide come up. And things grew so bad for them that they had to content themselves with two meals a day, and those but poor and scanty ones. Their condition was a strange parallel to that of the unfortunate passengers of the "Merry Andrew" on the raft. There are wrecks on land as sad as any in the records of the sea.
Solomon Fewster, of course, was profuse in his regrets at the falling-off of the business, and offered to lend Dan and Ellen money, which they refused. He renewed his offer many times, not offended at the refusal. "He wants to buy Ellen," thought Dan; "but he doesn't know her. Jo said once that Ellen was not the kind of a girl for a heroine. Would he say so now, if he could see her, I wonder?"
It was in this way that he often thought of Joshua as of one who would be restored to them some day. He had fixed the belief firmly in his mind, and nothing could shake it. He had no hope of ever seeing Minnie again. She was as one who had passed out of his life forever. But she lived in his mind and in his heart, and came to him in his dreams. And in the light, often and often, he would muse upon her tenderly and lovingly.
So they lived on, and the tide of adversity rose higher and higher, until they were compelled to begin to pawn things. But a better time was coming. The Old Sailor passing a pawn-shop one day in Dan's neighborhood--he was on his way to Dan's house--saw Ellen hurry out of the shamefaced door. He was so staggered that he allowed her to escape his sight. He had had no idea that things were so hard with them as that. When he recovered himself, he gave his chest a great thump, called himself "a blind old swab," and made his way to Dan's house. He went straight down to the kitchen, prying old interloper as he was, and caught Ellen, in the act of counting a few--very few--small pieces of silver and copper in Mrs. Marvel's hand. He was so distressed, that the blood rushed into his face. He only desired to see Ellen alone and speak to her, and here he was shaming them in their poverty. The tender-hearted old fellow was fit to sink into the ground, he was so remorseful. He stammered out a few words of apology, said he thought Ellen was alone, but that Dan would do as well. He went up to Dan, and to Dan's astonishment locked the door. Then he inclined his head melodramatically, to be sure that no one was listening, and, being satisfied, drew a chair close to Dan's.