The conversation was forced, for a time. Each felt the embarrassment, and Pearson was still resentful of the manner in which she had greeted him on his arrival. But, as he looked at her, the resentment vanished, and the other feeling, that which he had determined to forget, returned. Captain Elisha had told him how brave she had been through it all, and, contrasting the little house with the former home, remembering the loss of friends and fortune, to say nothing of the unmasking of those whom she believed were her nearest and dearest, he wondered and admired more than ever. He understood how very hard it must have been for her to write that letter to him, a letter in which she justified his course at the cost of her own father's honor. He longed to tell her that he understood and appreciated.
At last he could not resist the temptation.
"Miss Warren," he said, "please excuse my speaking of this, but Imust; I must thank you for writing me as you did. It was not necessary, it was too much to expect, too hard a thing for you to do. It makes me feel guilty. I--""Please don't!" she interrupted. "Don't speak in that way. It was right. It was what I should have done long ago.""But it was not necessary; I understood. I knew you had heard another version of the story and that you felt I had been ungrateful and mean, to say the least, in my conduct toward your father. I knew that; I have never blamed you. And you writing as you did--""I did it for my uncle's sake," she broke in, quickly. "You are his closest friend.""I know, but I appreciate it, nevertheless. I--I wish you would consider me your friend as well as his. I do, sincerely.""Thank you. I need friends, I know. I have few now, which is not strange," rather bitterly.
He protested earnestly. "I did not mean it in that way," he said.
"It is an honor and a great privilege to be one of your friends. Ihad that honor and privilege once. May I have it again?""Thank you, Mr. Pearson . . . Now tell me about your novel. Iremember it all so well. And I am very much interested. You must have it nearly completed. Tell me about it, please."They were deep in the discussion of the novel when Captain Elisha walked into the living room. He was surprised, stating his feelings at their mildest, to find them together, but he did not express his astonishment. Instead, he hailed Pearson delightedly, demanded to know if they had dared tackle Cap'n Jim without the "head doctor's" being on the scene; and insisted upon the author's admitting him to the "clinic" forthwith. Pearson did not take the next train, nor the next. Instead, he stayed for dinner and well into the evening, and when he did go it was after a prompt acceptance of the captain's invitation to "come again in a mighty little while."Caroline, when she and her uncle were alone after their visitor's departure, made no protest against the invitation having been given. She did not speak of Pearson at all. Captain Elisha also talked of other things, principally about the sail-boat, the summer lease of which he had arranged that afternoon. He declared the sloop to be an "able craft of her tonnage" and that they would have some good times aboard her or he missed his guess. In his own room, when ready for bed, he favored his reflection in the glass with a broad smile and a satisfied wink, from which proceeding it may be surmised that the day had not been a bad one, according to his estimate.
Pearson came again a week later, and thereafter frequently. The sessions with Cap'n Jim and his associates were once more regular happenings to be looked forward to and enjoyed by the three. As the weather grew warmer, the sloop--Captain Elisha had the name she formerly bore painted out and Caroline substituted--proved to be as great a source of pleasure as her new skipper had prophesied. He and his niece--and occasionally Pearson--sailed and picnicked on the Sound, and Caroline's pallor disappeared under the influence of breeze and sunshine. Her health improved, and her spirits, also.
She seemed, at times, almost happy, and her uncle seldom saw her, as after the removal to the suburb he so frequently used, with tears in her eyes and the sadness of bitter memories in her expression and manner. Her work at the University grew steadily more difficult, but she enjoyed it thoroughly and declared that she would not give it up for worlds.
In June two very important events took place. The novel was finished, and Stephen, his Sophomore year at an end, came home from college. He had been invited by some classmates to spend a part of his vacation with them on the Maine coast, and his guardian had consented to his doing so; but the boy himself had something else to propose. On an evening soon after his return, when, his sister having retired, he was alone with the captain, he broached the idea.
"Say," he said, "I've been thinking a good deal while I've been away this last time.""Glad to hear it, I'm sure," replied his uncle, dryly.
"Yes. I've been thinking--about a good many things. I'm flat broke; down and out, so far as money is concerned. That's so, isn't it?"Captain Elisha looked at him keenly for an instant. Then:
"It appears that way, I'm afraid," he answered. "What made you ask?""Nothing. I wasn't asking, really; I was just stating the case.
Now, the way I look at it, this college course of mine isn't worth while. You're putting up for it, and I ought to be much obliged; Iam, of course."
"You're welcome, Stevie."
"I know; but what's the use of it? I've got to go to work when it's over. And the kind of work I want to do doesn't need university training. I'm just wasting time; that's what I'm doing.""Humph! I ain't so sure about that. But what sort of work do you want to do?""I want to be down on the Street, as the governor was. If this Rubber Company business hadn't knocked us out, I intended, as soon as I was of age, to take that seat of his and start in for myself.
