In the meantime Adam Rust, having come to Boston in a moment when excitement, despair and bitter feeling, such as the town nor the colony had ever known before, and which completely altered the Puritan people, had heard a garbled story of Randolph’s perfidy and his attempt to marry Garde which made his blood boil. Fortunately the fact that Garde had run away had been kept so close a secret, that more persons had heard how devotedly she was attending David Donner than knew any hint of her escapade. Adam having first paid his respects to Mrs. Phipps, to whom he delivered the Captain’s messages and letters, had found himself apartments in a tavern quite removed from the Crow and Arrow, where he had been able easily to avoid all his former acquaintances of Boston. He might have desired to search out Wainsworth, but Henry was away at Salem. Randolph, of whom Adam naturally thought, had betaken himself to New York, there to conclude some details of snatching the charter from the colony of Massachusetts.
Once settled, Adam lost no time in searching for Garde. Thus he was soon made aware of the state of the Donner household, into the affairs of which it would have been anything but thoughtful and kind to obtrude his presence. With a courteous patience he set himself to wait for a seemly moment in which to apprise Garde of his reappearance. He told himself that, as she had no intimation that he had returned to Boston, it would be a greater kindness to keep himself in the background, until her trials should be lessened.
Naturally all these various matters had somewhat obliterated from his mind the thoughts of the youth with whom he had traveled from the environs of Plymouth. While he was curbing his spirit and his too impatient love, a message arrived, in care of Goodwife Phipps, from Captain William Kidd, to the effect that the beef-eaters, far from recuperating after their voyage, had become seriously ill, and were begging each day for the “Sachem.”
Rust had been contemplating the acceptance of an offer from Mrs. Phipps to assume command at the ship-yard, the foreman in charge being then arrogating powers unto himself which were not at all quieting. Adam reflected that if he took this place he could settle down, marry his sweetheart presently, and become a sober citizen.
With the advent of the message from the beef-eaters, he was completely at a loss to know what to do. He yearned over these faithful companions, whose affection had been repeatedly demonstrated, under circumstances the most trying. If they should die while he remained away, selfishly denying them so little a thing as his presence, he would never obtain his own forgiveness. Yet he could not go to New York, or any other where on earth, without first having at least seen Garde. Indeed he reflected now that mayhap it had been a mistaken kindness for him to remain away from her side so long. Should he not have gone to her long before, and offered what service he could render in her trial?
As a matter of fact he had been kind as it was, for Garde had hardly enjoyed a moment in which to do so much as to think of love and her lover. Her grandfather had occupied her attention day and night. She had stinted him in nothing, else with her spirit of penitence upon her—for all that she had helped to hasten upon him—she could never have had any peace of mind nor contentment in her soul.
But at last, when the old man was out of danger, sitting in his chair by the hour, she had time to think of Adam again and to wonder why it was that he had never attempted to see her. She answered herself by saying it was better that he had not done so, but then, when she suddenly thought that he might have heard all manner of wild stories, and might indeed have gone away, angered and not understanding the truth, she yearned for him feverishly.
As if the message of her love flew unerringly to him, Adam suddenly, in the midst of thinking of going to the beef-eaters, determined to see his sweetheart, cost what it might.