CHAPTER XVI
A CLOUD ON THE HORIZON
A quickened conscience is not the best of soporifics, and Revere was along time in getting to sleep. The miserable situation into which hehad plunged himself, however, was alleviated by the consciousness, ofwhich nothing could deprive him, that Emily loved him. And hepersuaded himself that when a girl, such as he fancied her, loved, sheloved forever. Which was true. There was much comfort for him in theidea. He could not, however, take the joy that should have been his inthe realization of this glorious fact until his affairs with Josephinehad been adjusted. As for Emily, she, too, mingled her grief at thepre-engagement with joy in Richard's love, but with less confidence inits permanence; and, like his, her hours were sorely troubled.
The next morning she carefully avoided seeing him except in thepresence of others, and the topics they were both dying to discussremained unbroached until a messenger from the village, a servant ofthe inn, delivered a note to Revere. The admiral and Emily were on theporch with him when the missive was handed to him. Barry was busy atsomething down on the ship. He had reported to the admiral early inthe morning that there were some repairs that he wished to make whichwould probably take him the whole of the day. However, nobody, unlessit was the admiral, missed him, in which lay the pity of it all.
Revere started with surprise as he glanced at the address on theenvelope.
"Why!" he exclaimed, involuntarily, "it is from my mother! Can it bepossible that she is here?"
"A lady guv it to me to bring to you," said the messenger. "She cometo the tavern late last night, an' said as how she didn't want todisturb you until mornin'."
"Your mother!" exclaimed Emily. "Why--what can she--how does it----"
As she spoke Richard tore open the letter and glanced at its contents.
"She has heard some garbled account of my adventure," he said toEmily, "and she was worried, and has come over here to see me. That'sall."
"Did she come alone?"
"Er--no; not exactly."
"Who is with her?" with dawning suspicion.
"Miss Remington."
"Oh!" with great surprise.
"Well, I must go to her at once, I suppose," said Revere, doubtfully.
"Of course," coldly and disdainfully.
"My lad," said the admiral, "the inn is but a poor place for ladies ofquality and gentlefolk to stay. Present my compliments to your motherand her young friend, and beg them to honor me by accepting ourhospitality while they abide in this latitude. Tell them, I beg ofyou, that my age and infirmities prevent me from extending theinvitation in person, but that my granddaughter will call upon themlater and invite them in my behalf."
"Oh, grandfather! I--I----"
"My mother will be delighted to receive Miss Emily," broke in Richard,quickly. "I have no doubt that her plans contemplate remaining herelonger than a day, and I think she will be glad to accept yourhospitality. She will be honored, I am sure. Meanwhile, I must go. MayI have your boat, Miss Emily? I suppose that is the quickest way tothe village?"
"Certainly, Mr. Revere."
"And will you not walk down to the landing with me?"
She hesitated, longing yet reluctant.
"Of course she will. Go with him, Emily," said the admiral,decisively.
"Richard," said the girl, as soon as they were out of earshot of theporch, "they have come about that letter."
"Yes," answered Revere, dejectedly, forgetting in his confusion thatthey had arrived the night before; "I suppose so. I didn't think itpossible that it could have reached them by this time. My man musthave made good time. Oh, dear; what shall I do? Was ever innocent manplaced in so miserable a position?"
"Oh, Richard, you are involved innocently--you say you could not helploving me----"
"I couldn't."
"But you had no right to involve me, sir. But there, I won't reproachyou. She won't give you up; you will have to keep your word, that'sall."
She spoke with infinite sadness.
"You have loved me, anyway, and that's a great deal. I ought to bethankful for that, I suppose," she continued.
They were sheltered now from the observation of every one,--but Barryfrom the ship,--and she put her handkerchief up to her eyes and sobbedout the following in broken sentences:
"I've thought it out all night long, Richard. You saved that girl'slife; she has a claim on you. I know she loves you deeply; and ofcourse she won't give you up. I--I wouldn't myself," she wailed. "Ihope you will be very hap--hap--happy with her and--you will forgetall about this. Oh, Dick, Dick!"
"My heavens! Emily, you nearly drive me distracted! I tell you Icouldn't be happy with an arch-angel if she were not you! She mustgive me up! She shall! I don't really suppose she will hesitate amoment. Why, if she could see you she would know in a glance that Icould not help falling in love with you."
"Probably she thinks she's as nice as I am," she continued, throughher tears. "She would look upon me as an ignorant little country girl.She would wonder how you could possibly fall in love with me. I wonderabout it myself. You do love me, don't you?" anxiously.
"Of course I do. I have told you a thousand times, and I mean it! Imean it more every time I tell you, and I want to tell you more everytime I see you. I won't marry Josephine Remington, and that's allthere is about it!"
"You must!" decisively.
"If you say that again, Emily, we will quarrel right here," sternly.
"Perhaps that would be best. If we quarrelled it would be easier tobreak it off."
"Well, we won't quarrel, then. But what I am going to do I cannot say.I'll just tell the truth and stick to it. I wish--oh, I wish--theyhadn't come! I do not want to see her at all."
"But you must go, and go right away!"
"Oh, very well. The sooner it is over the better, perhaps. Good-by,Emily."
"Good-by, Richard," heartbrokenly.
"Won't you kiss me good-by? You have not kissed me since last night.You have not let me see you alone this long morning," reproachfully.
"No," answered Emily, with sad decision; "I do not believe I shallkiss you. We are not yet engaged, and you may not belong to me, afterall. I think I would better not."
"Oh, all right, then," with a savage simulation of unconcern.
"You are not angry, are you?" timidly.
"No, I am not angry; but I am awfully----"
"You see I am afraid it's the end and another kiss would makeit--harder."
She spoke slowly, with a note of interrogation in her voice. Foranswer he clasped her in his arms and kissed her fervently again andagain. She remained weakly struggling for a moment, but finallyreturned his caresses. Presently, however,--after she had been wellkissed, by the way,--her determination came back to her. She burstfrom his arms with a violent effort, exclaiming,--
"There, go! And I suppose you will be with them all day?"
"I will come back to you as soon as I can get away."
"Oh, Dick, I suppose I will have to go over there in the afternoon andinvite them here. What will your mother think of me? I don't believe Iever met a high-born, high-bred lady in my life. I wouldn't know whatto do."
"Do just as you always do; be yourself; and if my experience is anycriterion, she will adore you as I do. Good-by."