“We didn’t have any. I found Captain Salter’s house deserted, and his boat gone. I’ve been taking a long walk.” “Indeed! I thought perhaps you would find—find Betsy at Captain Salter’s.” “Why?” the question was quick. “Her trunk went there this afternoon.” “Madama!” Mrs. Bruce felt a faint satisfaction in the amazement her information conveyed. “I wonder—” said Irving; and repeated vaguely, “I wonder.” “I thought she might be storing it there,” hazarded Mrs. Bruce meekly. Irving stood, thinking, for a minute, but to her disappointment he made no reply. “Good-night,” he said, and kissed her forehead as he had always done. He went on to his room, his thoughts busy. The house was deserted. The boat was gone. That was what she had done, then. “Betsy! Dear Betsy!” he murmured. He looked at his watch, then took a sudden determination. Like a thief he stole downstairs without a sound, and out of doors. Then he started on a slow, steady run down the village street. It was not a long pull to the isolated cottage among the rocks, and when he came in sight of it he was rewarded by seeing a light in the windows. Stealthily drawing near, he peered within. There he could see a cheerful tea-table, and Captain Salter and Betsy eating their late supper. A lump rose in his throat. The trunk still stood on the piazza, and he passed it, to open the door gently. Smiling and dim-eyed he stood before the pair, who pushed their chairs back from the table. “Well, _Irving_!” cried the captain’s big voice. He extended a welcoming hand, but the visitor did not see it. He had fallen on his knees beside the bride’s chair, and buried his face in her lap. She put both arms around his shoulders as she had done a hundred times to console some childish grief, and sudden tears rained from the eyes she raised to her husband. The captain rose, and walked over to the window. Irving lifted his cheek to Betsy’s breast. “Mr. Irving, dear,” she said brokenly, “you know—” “Yes. Don’t explain. Don’t speak. I know. But I remember, Betsy. I remember so much, that I couldn’t stay away. My mother and you, Betsy. My mother and you.—So much.—So much that I can’t say—But my heart is full of it—and I wanted to kiss you—to kiss you before I went to sleep.” “Darling boy! Darling child!” said Betsy, and pressed her cheek against his hair. Then she kissed him tenderly, and he her, and he rose, and with a parting caress of his hand upon hers, crossed to the bridegroom, quietly blowing his nose by the window. “Congratulations,” he said thickly. The captain seized his offered hand speechlessly, and a mighty mutual grip ensued. Then Irving slipped out of the open door, closed it softly behind him, and ran down the garden’s perfumed path. CHAPTER XXVII BETSY RECEIVES BETSY’S letter to Mrs. Bachelder was a lighted match to a fuse. Within an hour Betsy’s Fairport, to a man, woman, and child, knew that she had linked her fortunes to Captain Salter’s.