Ah, his confidence in a fatherhood more omniscient than his own had not been misplaced. Loving hands had borne his darling safely through the waves to a home where, in an atmosphere of devotion, the beauty that had been in her from the beginning had perfected in its maturity. Even the homely surroundings of the environment into which she drifted could not stifle her native fineness of soul. Bred up a fisherman's daughter she had lived and moved among plain, kindly people, whom she had learned to cherish and revere as if they were of her blood, and to whom she had endeared herself to a corresponding degree.
And now what was her future to be? Was she suddenly to be snatched back into her rightful sphere, the ties that linked her with the present snapped asunder, and a new world with the myriad opportunities she had until now been denied placed within her reach? That was the query that agitated the minds of the silent thinkers who sped along the Harbor Road.
Sunset was gilding the water, kissing the sands into rosy warmth and casting glints of vermilion over the low buildings at the mouth of the bay, where windows flashed forth a flaming reflection of fire. The peace of approaching twilight brooded over the village. Little boats, like homing doves, came flying across the vast expanse of waves, their sails a splendor of copper in the fading light. With the hush of night the breeze died into stillness until scarce a leaf of the weather-beaten poplars stirred. From the tangle of roses, sweet fern and bayberry that overgrew the fields the note of a thrush rose clear on the quiet air. A whirling bevy of gulls circled the bar, left naked and opalescent by the receding tide. Peace was everywhere, divine peace, save in the breasts of those who gazed only to find a mockery in the surrounding tranquillity.
Robert Morton's face was stern in meditation. How was this mighty transformation in Delight's fortunes to affect the hopes he fostered? To wed the daughter of a humble fisherman was a different matter from offering a penniless future to the grand-daughter of the stately Madam Lee. Even when the possibility of marriage with Cynthia had loomed in his path, his pride had rebelled at the financial inequality of the match. He did not wish to be patronized, to come empty-handed to a princess whose hands were full. The thought had been a galling one. And now once again he was in a similar position. Of course, Madam Lee and the Galbraiths would desire to make good the past; he knew them well enough for that. Delight would be elevated to the same plane with Cynthia, and he would be faced with the old irritating inferiority of fortune. Moreover, in her recently acquired station, the lady of his dreams might scorn such a humble suitor. Who could tell? Wealth worked great changes in individuals sometimes, and at best human nature was a frail, assailable, and incalculable factor. Furthermore the girl had never pledged him her love. There had been no spoken word between them. The vision that had made a Utopia of his world had been, he reflected, of his own creating.
He glanced at Delight, but she did not meet his eye.
Her gaze was vacantly following the rapidly shifting landscape.
Although the glory from the sky shone on her face the radiance that glowed there came only from without and was the result of no inward exultation. Even the gray cottage had assumed a false splendor in the rosy twilight and was lighted with a beauty not its own.
When the car stopped, Willie clambered stiffly out and he and Bob helped the women to alight. Then the motor rolled away and they were alone.
"Well!" burst out Celestina, her pent-up feeling taking vent, "did you ever know of such a to-do? I've been stiflin' to talk all the way home! Why, you're goin' to be rich, Delight! You'll be aunts, an' uncles, an' cousins with them Galbraiths—picture it! Likely they'll take you to New York with 'em an' to goodness knows where!"
The girl did not answer but moved to Willie's side and slipped her hand into his, as if certain of his understanding and sympathy.