Miss Charlotte Carlaw's perception must have been keener even than the captain had imagined. At the first, when Comethup began his blundering explanation, she had shown signs of a rising indignation, but as the pitiful recital went on her face changed, and her head was bowed slowly over the top of her stick. The captain stole quietly from the room, and the old woman raised her head at last and held out her hand toward her nephew. "My dear boy," was all she said, but in the words was a sympathy so great that he could scarce restrain his tears. He did not feel strong enough to go near her yet, and so he said, with what lightness he could call into his voice:
"Is there nothing more you wish to say to me?" she asked. "Oh, my dear boy, is there nothing you wish to say? You speak as lightly as though----"
"And think as lightly, I hope," he replied. "I've made--made a blunder; that's all."
She dropped her stick, and stretched out both hands to him. He stepped forward then and took the hands and kissed her. "O Comethup!" she whispered, "I never wanted eyes so much as I want them to-night. I want to see your face!"
In all the time which followed, Miss Charlotte Carlaw never once alluded to the scene of that evening. That, with womanly instinct, she drew her own conclusions is certain; that, in her own characteristically fierce fashion, she cursed the girl for a fool and a jilt is equally certain; but to Comethup she strove in every possible fashion to teach him to forget the mishap, to take his mind as much as possible from the sorry business. She could not cheat herself into the belief that she succeeded; her quick senses told her that the added tenderness in his voice and an additional gentleness in his manner were but the outcome of all that he suffered in silence.
They returned to town on the day following 'Linda's flight, and two days after that a letter was forwarded to Comethup by the captain--an impudent, paltry thing, which yet gave him some small satisfaction.
"MY DEAR YOUNG CROESUS: The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. I've no doubt that at the present moment you are thirsting for my blood, and pouring out threats against me; yet I should be glad, for the sake of our old friendship and because I am grateful for certain services you have rendered me, that we might still be friends. You can't have everything in this world; and once upon a time, when probably you didn't know any better, you stole my birthright. At the present moment I have stolen what was never yours. It was a mere girlish infatuation on her part, and one which you should have been wise enough never to take seriously. You wouldn't see that you were in the way, and you forced me to adopt the only course possible. I am convinced of one thing, and that is, that my new life with her will give me just that stimulus which has somehow been wanting in all my efforts. We were married on the day following our flight to London, so that you need not, in your innocence, blush for me or for her. We are going into the country for what is technically known as the honeymoon, and then we return to town and I start seriously to work. I will let you know my address.