"'Tis well," said Neville, clasping Huntoon's hand on his right almost as firmly as he held his sister's on the other side. "Thou art a man after my own heart; and if thou dost win this little sister of mine, be tender, be gentle to her whimsies, of which she hath a full assortment; but keep the whip hand, my friend, keep the whip hand! And now one more charge I pray thee accept for my sake. This good Master Philpotts,--he is not made for a roving life, as his sea-sickness but now did bear witness, yet hath he without a murmur left farm and implements and all means of earning a livelihood to help me out of this hard place." "Yes, and if thou wert a wiser man, thou wouldst stay helped and not go throwing thyself back into the pit from which we ha' digged you." "Have thy fling, good friend Philpotts! Having never laid claim to wisdom, I am not over-sensitive to the charge of lacking it; but what I would say to Master Huntoon was this, that if my lands at home in England be not confiscate, I do intend them as a dowry for my sister. I would counsel that they be sold and land taken up in Virginia, where Philpotts may have a farm and implements as many as he left and whatsoever more is needed." Philpotts tried to speak, but could not. The tears choked him. He gulped and bent over the tiller. Peggy, too, was crying hard, and Huntoon sat with steady gaze fixed upon Christopher. The silence that fell upon the little group continued long. So much must be said if that silence were once broken! So bowed down were their hearts that it seemed quite natural that the sunshine should fade out of the sky and a universal grayness slowly spread itself over the sea. Philpotts was first to speak. "Look yonder, Captain!" he said, pointing Huntoon to the eastward; "is that yonder Watkins Point or a bank of fog?" "That's the Point. No, it cannot be the Point either,--'tis too far south for that; besides, it looms as we look. It is drawing nearer, and the fogs do drift in with marvellous quickness in these waters. Give _me_ the helm!" "'Tis unlucky," murmured Neville, "for 'tis not the easiest thing in the world in the brightest weather to make one's way past all these headlands, they are so much alike. What's that craft yonder by the wooded point?" Huntoon made a glass of his two hands. "She hath the look of a packet sloop outward bound, somewhat heavy laden too, for she lies low in the water and goes slowly with a fair wind." "How far away is she?" "A matter of a mile, I should say." "Ay," put in Philpotts, "and she hath seen the fog too, and is setting all sail to make what way she can before it strikes her." The air grew colder as the sky clouded, and Huntoon brought Peggy's red cape from below and wrapped it close about her. She thanked him with a smile that he thought the sweetest and the saddest thing he had ever seen.