“It must be as Angelique says. The long lane will turn. Why have I been so easily discouraged? I never saw my precious uncle ill before, and that is why I have been so frightened. I suppose anybody gets thin and says things, when there is fever. But he’s troubled about something. He wants to do something that neither of us understand. Unless—— Oh! I believe I do understand! My head is clearer out here on the water, and I know, I know! it is just about the time of year when he goes away on those long trips of his. And we’ve been so anxious we never remembered. That’s it. That surely is it. Then, of course, Joe will be back now or soon. He always stays on the island when uncle goes and he’ll remember. Oh! I’m brighter already, and I guess, I believe, it is as Angelique claims—God won’t take away so good a man as uncle and leave me alone. Though—I am not alone! I have a father! I have a father, somewhere, if I only knew—all in good time—and I’m growing gladder and gladder every minute.”
She could even sing to the stroke of her paddle and she skimmed the water with increasing speed. Whatever the reason for her growing cheerfulness, whether the reaction of youth or a prescience of happiness to come, the result was the same; she reached the further shore flushed and eager eyed, more like the old Margot than she had been for many days.
“Oh! he’s there. He is at home. There is a smoke coming out the chimney. Joseph! Oh! Joseph, Joseph!”
She did not even stop to take care of her canoe but left it to float whither it would. Nothing mattered, Joseph was at home. He had canoes galore, and he was help indeed.
She was quite right. The old man came to his doorway and waited her arrival with apparent indifference, though surely no human heart could have been unmoved by such unfeigned delight. Catching his unresponsive hands in hers she cried:
“Come at once, Joseph! At once!”
“Does not the master trust his friend? It is the time to come. Therefore I am here.”
“Of course. I just thought about that. But, Joseph, the master is ill. He knows nothing any more. If he ever needed you he needs you doubly now. Come, come at once.”
Then, indeed, though there was little outward expression of it, was old Joseph moved. He stopped for nothing, but leaving his fire burning on the hearth and his supper cooking before it, went out and closed the door. Even Margot’s nimble feet had ado to keep pace with his long strides and she had to spring before him to prevent his pushing off without her.
“No, no. I’m going with you. Here. I’ll tow my own boat, with Tom and Reynard—don’t you squabble, pets!—but I’ll paddle no more while you’re here to do it for me.”