"What!" The girl bent forward and the fire of her passion dried the tears from the troubled eyes. She would hold her news back. Billy had the right of way.
"Yes, yes." Billy let go his grip of the present. He forgot the girl opposite, and her personal claim upon him. He was back in his own youth, and in arms to defend the one woman of his love, while of necessity he must use her against herself.
"'T ain't no harm in lovin', if love on both sides means right. Mary—that was her name—Mary was cursed, yes, cursed, with a handsome face an' a lovin' little heart what she didn't know how t' steer true. That's what she always stuck t' later, that eddication would have teached her t' know better. She was the heartsomest gal that ever was raised in these parts. Her an' Susan Jane was 'bout as friendly as any, an' I will say fur Susan Jane, that with all her cantankerousness, she stood by Mary. David an' me never sot our fancy on any one but Susan Jane an' Mary; an' Davy an' me warn't doomed t' happiness! Least, not in our own way, though 't was give t' us both t' help when everythin' else failed. Mary, she went t' the city an' took a place in a store. She had ambitions t' soar an' be somethin' different. Once or twice she came home all dressed up t' kill, an' lookin' like jest nothin' but a picter. An' once I went t' the city jest t' see her. I took special care o' my get-up, knowing how much Mary sot by such things. I thought I was all right till I reached the town; then it broke on me like a clap o' thunder that I was about as out o' place there as a whale in a fresh-water lake. Mary was real upset 'bout my comin' onexpected an' lookin' so different to city folks, an' she out an' out told me 't warn't no use, she was bein' courted by a city man as was rich, an' goin' t' make a real lady of her."
Poor Billy's weather-beaten face twitched under the lash of the old memory which had never lost its power over him. Janet did not take her eyes from him, nor did she break the spell by a word of hurry or question. Presently Billy went on.
"An' then—she came back here! Davy, he brought her across the bay after dark one evenin'. No one on the mainland knew. When I went on the midnight patrol she met me—an' told me!"
"Told you what?" No longer could Janet hold the question back. She knew Billy's method of going around a dangerous spot, and her womanhood and daughterhood demanded all.
"'Bout him in the city!" The past misery shook Billy's voice. "He—he didn't marry her! He went away an' left her! The poor little wrecked soul came back here, havin' no other harbor in all God's world, an' she knew she could trust me an' the love I allus had fur her. Her faith steered her true! She didn't want t' let me take the course I laid out; she said it wasn't fair t' me. Lord! not fair t' me! She never would tell me his name. She wanted t' forgit everythin'. It made her shiver t' talk, even, of the city. She didn't want no help 'long o' him who had deserted her, an' I never pestered her none. Then I—married her. Davy, he backed me up, an' he an' Susan Jane went t' Bay End an' saw us married. Susan Jane kept her visitin' over at the Light till I took her, calm an' easy-like, t' the parson, an' most folks never guessed the real truth. An' then we come over here fur a little while, such a little while! I never seen a more grateful critter than she was. She never seemed t' take int' 'count the joy 't was fur me to serve her an' chirp her up. I fixed the little place fur her, an' I took my traps t' the lean-to so as t' give her plenty o' room, an' by an' by, like it sometimes happens after a stormy, lowerin' day, the sun bu'st through, an' toward the close the glory seemed right startlin'. I can see her face a shinin' now every time I shet my eyes. An' she grew that wise an' far-seein' that it made me oneasy. 'T warn't nateral, an' she such a soft little thin'!" Billy passed his rough hand over his dry, hot lips. "Then you come, an' she slipped her moorin's."
The two were staring dumbly, sufferingly, at each other. Billy saw the agony he had awakened and his heart sank within him. After a moment of silent doubt, Janet arose and stood in front of Billy, laying her cold hands upon his shoulders. There was no need for her news now!
"My Cap'n," she whispered, with a fervor Billy had never heard in her voice before; "my Cap'n, I am a woman, a woman like my mother. Tell me, as true as heaven, am I your Janet and hers?" Billy's deep eyes pleaded for mercy, but the woman before him would not relent. There was a heartrending pause, then:
"No, ye ain't! God help us, ye ain't! But He's let me love ye like ye was—an' that's been my reward."