“But what was the use of it?” I demanded. “It was done. Nothing you could say would change it. For Nellie's sake—”
“There! there!” broke in Captain Jed, “Nellie knows. George told her the day they was married. He told her before they was married. He was man enough to do that and I honor him for it. If he'd only come to me then it would have been a mighty sight better. I'd have understood when I heard about your sellin' Colton the land, and I wouldn't have made a jackass of myself by treatin' you as I done. You! the man that sacrificed yourself to keep my girl from breakin' her heart! When I think what you saved us all from I—I—By the Almighty, Ros Paine! I'll make it up to you somehow. I will! I swear I will!”
He turned away and looked out of the window. George laid a hand on his shoulder.
“I am the one to make it up, Cap'n,” he said, solemnly. “If I live I'll make it up to Ros here, and to you, and to Nellie, God bless her! I expected you would never speak to me again when I'd told you. Telling you—next to telling Nellie—was the toughest job I ever tackled. But I'll make it up to you both, and to Ros. Thank the Lord, it ain't too late to make it up to him!”
“We'll both make it up to him, George,” replied Captain Jed. “As far as we can, we will. If he wants to come back to the bank this minute he can. We'll be proud to have him. But I cal'late,” with a smile, “he'll have bigger fish to fry than we can give him. If what we've just heard is true, he will.”
“I don't know what you mean,” I answered. “And as for the bank—well, you forget one thing: I sold the Shore Lane and the town knows it. How long would the other directors tolerate me in that bank, after that, do you think?”
To my surprise they looked at each other and laughed. Captain Dean shook his head.
“No,” he said, “you're mistook, Ros. The town don't know you sold it. I didn't tell 'em because I wanted George in command of that bank afore the row broke loose. I larned of the sale myself, by chance, over to Ostable and I never told anybody except Dorindy Rogers and her fool of a husband. I'll see that they keep still tongues in their heads. And as for the Lane—well, that won't be closed. Colton don't own it no more.”
“Don't OWN it,” I repeated. “Don't own it! He does. I sold it to him myself.”
“Yes. And George, here, bought it back not an hour ago. We saw His Majesty—sick in bed he was, but just as high and mighty and independent as ever—and George bought back the land and the Lane for thirty-five hundred dollars. The old man didn't seem to give a durn about it any more. He'd had his own way, he said, and that was all he cared about. Besides, he ain't goin' to stay in Denboro much longer. The old lady—his wife—is sick of the place and he only come here on her account. He cal'lates that New York is good enough for him. I cal'late 'tis. Anyhow, Denboro won't hang onto his coattails to hold him back. Tell Ros the whole story, George.”