And now summer was gone and winter nearing, and poor, timid, tender, friendless Mona was broken-hearted.
For only a few days more did she go to the cave, and these visits increased her grieving; it was like visiting the grave of a dead love. When the November gales swept the island, Mona was made a prisoner, the store and Jess her only escape. Here she kept her violin, and here she came to brood over her sorrow and fight her own heartache. And here, be it said, in the company of Jess only did she find any consolation. He had such genial philosophy, such a happy faculty for looking upon the bright side of all troubles,—his own as well as others,—that it made him a well spring of good cheer.
He was not long in guessing the cause of Mona's despondency, though with his cheerful optimism, feeling sure that in good time all would come out right. He also discovered the new ambition that had come to her that summer, as well as love, and in his own peculiar way set out to solve the problem.
And here it must be stated that a girl in love and separated from her heart's choice, having an ambition to go out into the world and earn fame as a musical artist, was a more complex problem than Jess had previously attempted. Then another factor entered into Mona's troubles; for young David Moore, who for years had cherished an open and loudly voiced admiration for her and between voyages always sought to woo her, now came home and, finding the coast clear, renewed his attentions.
He was outspoken and assertive, full of enthusiasm and conceit. He lacked refinement, but he was frugal and owned a third interest in his uncle's fishing schooner and was very much in love with Mona. Worse than that, her mother secretly favored his suit.
It may seem strange that the same practical sense of utility that governed her girlhood's impulses and led her to accept a ready-at-hand love, instead of waiting for an absent one, now shaped her desires toward her daughter. Romance had no place in Mrs. Hutton's nature, neither had love of music. In her calendar, also, one man was as good as another if he behaved himself as well, and a present lover for Mona, if he meant business and could provide a home, was far better than an absent one, even if the entire island cried his praises.
So she favored young Moore and, in the many ways a mother can, gave him opportunities.
But to Mona, sensitive, half heart-broken, and unable to escape this new infliction, it was inexpressible misery.
So the days and weeks went by, and the snow came to whiten Rockhaven ledges, the billows thundered unceasingly against them, and the little harbor became frozen over.
And sometimes, in the hours of bitterest desolation, Mona thought of the old tide mill and the girl who had once gone there to end her heart hunger.