Mr. Davis, for now that is your name, I want to ask you one straight-forward question.
Certainly, lady, proceed.
Did you love Amy as a sister only?
As a sister only, he replied.
In Charles Davis, Cora had found her hero—one that was bold, just and generous, with just enough savage life in his exterior to interest a girl of Cora’s mind. The smothering kisses and manly embraces he had bestowed on her, although meant for another, had aroused within her a passion different from any she had before experienced. She was the pet child of a wealthy family, gay, giddy and trifling, and in one sense a flirt. Accustomed to have her own way, yet noble and high minded. Her hand had been sought by the noble of her London home, but she had repulsed them all. Why? Because in them she did not see her hero—her ideal of a man. In Charles Davis, although dressed in torn and tattered clothes, although his face was sun-burned, and had the appearance of bronze, although his home had been in the forest, and his companions savages, yet something within her heart told her that she loved Charles Davis, that he had aroused within her bosom a passion heretofore dormant, and, on the impulse of the moment intended to tell him the state of her mind and declare her love. It was for this purpose she led him aside and asked him if he loved Amy only as a sister. But his answer being so frank, “as a sister only,” disconcerted her. How unlike the fops she had been accustomed to meet in London. It then flashed across her mind that Davis was no longer the half savage, the half civilized youth of the Delaware Valley, but the son of Captain Charles Davis, a man of influence and power in the English Navy. She realized that to talk and act love that was prompted by genuine affection was quite a different thing from the every day flirtation in which there was but little sense and no heart. She therefore concluded to await the result of the meeting that was about to take place on board of the Reindeer.
When it was announced that a boat containing two ladies was approaching, all hands rushed to the deck. That Cora was one of them there was no doubt. But who could the other one be.
See, said Mrs. Davis to her husband. Cora is sitting by Walter in the bow.
Then her shadow must be reflected to the stern, said the Captain, for that is certainly Cora. But who is the young man sitting by her side?
That is the young man you questioned. That is your and my son, Captain.