So the little blanket-man paddled away in his skiff with his share of the wedding-feast beside him; the two dogs went with him, and became Mormons.
Old Fog returned in the sail-boat through the channels, and fastened the sedge-gate open for the out-going craft. Silver, timid and happy, stood on the balcony as he approached the castle.
'It is time to start,' said the impatient bridegroom. 'How long you have been, Fog!'
The old man made no answer, but busied himself arranging the boat; the voyage to Mackinac would last two or three days, and he had provided every possible comfort for their little camps on shore.
'Come,' said Waring, from below.
Then the father went up to say good by. Silver flung her arms around his neck and burst into tears. 'Father, father,' she sobbed, 'must I leave you? O father, father!'
He soothed her gently; but something in the expression of his calm, pallid face touched the deeper feelings of the wakening woman and she clung to him desperately, realizing, perhaps, at this last moment, how great was his love for her, how great his desolation. Waring had joined them on the balcony. He bore with her awhile and tried to calm her grief, but the girl turned from him and clung to the old man; it was as though she saw at last how she had robbed him. 'I cannot leave him thus,' she sobbed; 'O father, father!'
Then Waring struck at the root of the difficulty. (Forgive him; he was hurt to the core.) 'But he is not your father,' he said, 'he has no claim upon you. I am your husband now, Silver, and you must come with me; do you not wish to come with me, darling?' he added, his voice sinking into fondness.
'Not my father!' said the girl. Her arms fell, and she stood as if petrified.
'No, dear; he is right. I am not your father,' said old Fog, gently. A spasm passed over his features, he kissed her hastily, and gave her into her husband's arms. In another moment they were afloat, in two the sail filled and the boat glided away. The old man stood on the castle roof, smiling and waving his hand; below, Orange fluttered her red handkerchief from the balcony, and blessed her darling with African mummeries. The point was soon rounded, the boat gone.