CHAPTER XIV
IN WHICH FATE TAKES THE HELM
AS the three conspirators emerged from the companionway one after another, they made a forlorn picture of disappointment, so chapfallen were the faces of all. Philpotts stood still, his shaggy eyebrows drawn into a frown, and under them a pair of eyes that threatened resistance. 'Twas as if Sancho Panza had come to the end of his patience with Don Quixote, and thought it time that common-sense took control for the good of all concerned.
Romney twisted his cap and looked at Peggy, who bit her lips to keep back the tears which, in spite of her will, were gathering in her eyes, and standing large on the fringe of her lashes.
As Christopher watched her, he felt his courage ebbing so fast that he must either yield or smile. He chose the latter.
"Troth," cried he, "'tis as though you were condemned criminals and I the judge. For having connived at the escape of a prisoner, I do sentence you to a happy life forever after, but in the present case to be balked of your good intent. Wherefore I am bound for St. Mary's, there to surrender myself to Sheriff Ellyson; but 'tis no part of my plan to give you up too. So if you are minded to risk the trip across the bay without yonder shallop bobbing along behind us like an empty cork, I'll e'en borrow it, when we are within a mile of the town and then—" here he paused and swallowed hard for a minute, "then, tried friends and true, we'll say good-bye for a while and you must continue on your way."
"Let them go, then, since thou wilt have it so, and we will make our way safe to St. Mary's, thou and I."
It was Peggy who spoke, coming close to her brother and looking up at him with unwavering love in her eyes.
"Nay, nay, little sister," said Christopher, gathering her soft hand into his. "That will not content me neither. Thou art well-nigh a part of myself, and it will content me much, whate'er betides, to feel that one part at least is happy. I will not have thee go back where thou must be made wretched by hearing hard words of thy brother, and be looked down upon by all. Huntoon, thou hast in right manful fashion declared thy love for my sister Margaret here. I venture not to give her answer. That must thou win from her thyself, and perchance 'tis not yet ready for the giving; but I trust her in thy keeping. Take her back to thy mother! She will, I know, receive her tenderly, for I am familiar with the repute of Mistress Huntoon's hospitality."