Adam thought this was sweet of Prudence, as indeed it was. He could have mentioned some disappointments himself, but he refrained from doing so. He thought, in a somewhat bitterly philosophical vein, that perhaps it was better as it was, better that he should not see Garde again, under the circumstances.
“You are very kind,” he said. “Perhaps it would not be asking too much of you to get you to take a small packet—in fact, I have presumed to provide myself with two little packages, which I trust you and Mistress Merrill will receive, merely as tokens of a rover’s amusement in the little event of a few evenings ago, and of a pleasant memory which the episode will furnish for otherwise lonely moments.”
He had indeed made up two small parcels, intending behind the ruse of making a small gift to both Garde and Prudence, to bestow thus the present to Garde brought from Hispaniola and long delayed as to delivery. He therefore took these carefully wrapped trinkets from his pocket and held them forth.
“If I might prevail upon your good nature,” he said, “to accept this one and to give this other into the hands of Mistress Merrill, I should be grateful to you for the favor.”
Fate takes obvious delight in making her weavings complete. It was inevitable that Garde should come out to that garden gate, while Adam and Prudence were talking there together, and that she should therefore see Adam, presenting something to her cousin, and should at once proceed to place an erroneous construction on the situation. Angered, humiliated and hurt, she fled back to the house, as Prudence was accepting the proffered trinkets and regretfully bidding Adam Rust good-by.
It was hardly feasible so to conceal herself in the house that Prudence would be long in searching her out, when at length that quiet and pleased young lady came back to the house, hence Garde accepted Adam’s present before she exactly comprehended what she was doing.
Prudence, having performed her duty, when the gift had passed to its rightful owner, hastened away to open her own packet, in privacy. She found an old Spanish doubloon in the bit of paper, and though a trifle disappointed that she did not discover an accompanying inscription, was nevertheless gladdened to the very core of her being.
Garde, rebellious and ready to weep with conflicting emotions, which had not been assuaged by hearing Prudence tell how innocently she had happened to meet Mr. Rust, felt like flinging Adam’s gift upon the floor and stamping it flat with her lively little foot. But the tenderness of the love she had fostered so long, and the slight hope to which she still clung, combined with her natural curiosity, proved too strong for resistance. She opened the neatly tied and folded paper.
Inside was a golden brooch of exquisite workmanship, a treasure absolutely irresistible to any beauty-loving young woman. But her gaze flew to a secondary little wad of paper, folded as a note. This she tore open with nerveless fingers.
“From Hispaniola,” Adam had written, simply.