And now circumstances came trooping upon her: the shipwreck, which she had heard Old Cy describe so often; the name she knew was really his; the almost startling resemblance to Uncle Jud in speech, ways, and opinions; and countless other proofs. Surely it must be so. Surely Old Cy, of charming memory, and Uncle Jud no less so, must be brothers, and now it was in her power to–and then she paused, shocked at the position she faced.
She was now known as Vera Raymond, and respected; she had cut loose forever from the old shame of an outlaw’s child; of a wretched drudge at Tim’s Place; of being sold as a slave; and all that now made her blush.
And then Ray!
Full well she knew now what must have been in his heart that last evening and why he acted as he did. Hannah had told her the bitter truth, as she had since realized. Ray had been assured that she was an outcast, and despicable in the sight of Greenvale. He dared not say “I love you; be my wife.” Instead, he had been hurried away to keep them apart; and as all this dire flood of shame that had driven her from Greenvale surged in her heart, the bitter tears came.
In calmer moments, and when the heart-hunger controlled, she had hoped he might some day find her and some day say, “I love you.” But now, so soon, to make herself known, to tell who she was, to admit to these new friends that she was Chip McGuire with all that went with it, to have to face and live down that shame, to admit that she had taken Ray’s first name for her own–no, no, a thousand times no!
But what of Old Cy and Uncle Jud, and their lifelong separation?
Truly her footsteps had led her to a parting of the ways, one sign-board lettered “Duty and Shame,” the other a blank.
CHAPTER XXIX
“Good luck comes now ’n’ then; bad luck drops ’round frequently.”–Old Cy Walker.