“I have learned,” went on his niece, “that I was mistaken. I can’t understand yet why you wished to wait before saying yes, but I do know that it must have been neither because you were unkind nor ungenerous. I have just come from those poor people, and they have told me everything.”
Captain Elisha started. “What did they tell you?” he asked, quickly. “Who told you?”
“Annie and her mother. They told me what you had done and were doing for them. How kind you had been all through the illness and to-day. Oh, I know you made them promise not to tell me; and you made the doctor and nurse promise, too. But I knew someone had helped, and Annie dropped a hint. Then I suspected, and now I know. Those poor people!”
The captain, who had been looking at the floor, and frowning a bit, suddenly glanced up to find his niece’s eyes fixed upon him, and they were filled with tears.
“Will you forgive me?” she asked, rising from her chair, and coming impulsively toward him. “I’m sorry I misjudged you and treated you so. You must be a very good man. Please forgive me.”
He took her hand, which was swallowed up in his big one. His eyes were moist, also.
“Lord love you, dearie,” he said, “there’s nothin’ to forgive. I realized that I must have seemed like a mean, stingy old scamp. Yet I didn’t mean to be. I only wanted to look into this thing just a little. Just as a matter of business, you know. And I.... Caroline, did that doctor tell you anything more?”
“Any more?” she repeated in bewilderment. “He told me that you were the kindest man he had ever seen.”
“Yes, yes. Well, maybe his eyesight’s poor. What I mean is did he tell you anything about anybody else bein’ in this with me?”
“Anybody else? What do you mean?”