Seth Dumbrick's thoughts, to judge from his manner, were harassing and perplexing, and the cloud in his face was reflected on Sally's, as now and again she raised her eyes from her work to observe him. She knew the groove in which his thoughts were running; it was a familiar one to both of them, and they could not see a clear way through it. Any time during the last five or six years it would have been a safe venture to guess, when they were sitting together, as they were sitting now, that their thoughts were fixed upon the theme which now occupied their minds.
Silence had reigned in the cellar for fully half-an-hour, and even then it was not broken until Seth, rising from his seat, stood for a few moments before the fire, with his hands clasped at the back of his neck.
"There is but one way out of it, Sally," said Seth.
Sally instantly gave him her whole attention, and by a sharp glance indicated that all her wits were at his service.
"There is but one way out of it," he repeated, "and there's danger in that way. But it's a matter of duty, and it's got to be done. Supposing there was no duty in it, and no love, it's the only course, as it seems to me, left open to us."
He spoke slowly and with deliberation, as though, after long inward communing, he had settled upon a plan, and was determined to carry it out.
"It's now--ah, how many years ago is it, Sally, since you came into my cellar and fell into a trance?"
"I can't count 'em, Daddy. It seems a lifetime."
"Sixteen years it is. You were a little brown berry, then, with not an ounce of flesh on your bones, sharp as a needle, and with a mind ten times as old as your body." He bent over and kissed her, and tears glistened in her eyes. "And our Duchess was as like a bright angel in a dream as man's imagination can compass. I was a strong man then, a strong lonely man, with nothing much to look forward to, and with nothing outside my grisly self to love. Sixteen years ago it was. It seems a lifetime to you, you say, Sally. And it was only yesterday that I was a boy!"
He brushed the sentiment away with a light wave of his hand.
"As we grow older, Sally, things that were far apart come nearer; that is, when we get to a certain age--my age. Then the young days, that appeared so far away, begin to creep towards us, nearer and nearer, until the man of seventy and the boy of ten are very close together. With some old men, I don't doubt, it might be said that they die in their cradles. Is that beyond you, Sally?"