Suddenly he jumped to his feet. “Then you were right about the boat! You did hear one. And it was here an hour ago!”
179Quickly he snatched a shotgun from the wall, rushed out of the house, down to the edge of the point and discharged one of the barrels. He shouted at the top of his voice, fired the second barrel and shouted again. For a few moments he stood looking off into the slowly dissolving fog, listening vainly for an answering sound.
Elinor joined him.
“I know it’s of no use,” he said, “for the wind is in the wrong direction. But I thought I would try it.”
A moment later the final cloud of mist in which they stood was swept away, giving a clear view over all the waters to the south. And they saw, disappearing toward the west, around a promontory, a speck upon the blue horizon, and behind it a line of smoke.
In a melancholy silence both watched this far-away handful of vapor until it faded into space. When no trace remained of the vanished craft, Pats dropped the empty gun, slowly turned his head and regarded his companion. In Elinor’s eyes, as they met his own, he recognized a gallant effort at suppressing tears. Remembering her resolve of yesterday he smiled,–a smile of admiration, of gratitude, and encouragement.
180She also smiled, for she read his thoughts. And something more was plainly written in his face,–that self-effacing, immortal thing that lovers live on; and it shone clear and honest from this lover’s eyes. Whereupon she stepped forward; he gathered her in his arms, and an ancient ceremony was observed,–very ancient, indeed, primitive and easily executed.
Solomon, weary of this oft-repeated scene, looked away with something like a sigh, then closed his eyes in patience.
