They left me soon after this. I tried to make them tell who the mysterious friend might be, but they refused. The kind things they said and the gratitude they both expressed I shall never forget. They did not strenuously urge me to return to the bank, and that seemed strange to me. “The job's yours if you want it, Ros,” said Captain Jed. “We'd be only too happy to have you if you'd come--any time, sooner or later. But I don't think you will.” “No,” I answered, “I shall not. I have made other plans. I am going to leave Denboro.” That did not seem to surprise them and I was still more puzzled. They shook hands and went away, promising to call at the house that evening and bring Nellie. “She wants to thank you, too, Ros,” said George. After they had gone I sat by the big door, looking out at the bay, smooth and beautiful in the afternoon sunlight, and thinking of what they had told me. For Mother's sake I was very glad. It would be easier for her, after I had gone; the townspeople would be friendly, instead of disagreeable. For her sake, I was glad. For myself nothing seemed to make any difference. George Taylor's words--those he had spoken to me that fateful evening when I found him with the revolver beside him--came back to me over and over. “Wait until your time comes. Wait until the girl comes along that you care for more than the whole world. And then see what you'd do. See what it would mean to give her up!” I was seeing. I knew now what it meant. I rose and went out of the boathouse. I did not care to meet anyone or speak with anyone. I strolled along the path by the bluff, my old walk, that which I had taken so many times and with such varied feelings, never with such miserable ones as now. The golden-rod, always late blooming on the Cape, bordered the path with gorgeous yellow. The leaves of the scrub oaks were beginning to turn, though not to fall. I walked on and entered the grove where she and I had met after our adventure with Carver and the stranded skiff. I turned the bend and saw her coming toward me. I stood still and she came on, came straight to me and held out her hand. “I was waiting for you,” she said. “I was on my way to your house and I saw you coming--so I waited.” “You waited,” I stammered. “Why?” “Because I wished to speak to you and I did not want that--that Mr. Rogers of yours to interrupt me. Why did you go away yesterday without even letting me thank you for what you had done? Why did you do it?” “Because--because you were very busy and--and I was tired. I went home and to bed.” “You were tired. You must have been. But that is no excuse, no good one. I came down and found you were gone without a word to me. And you had done so much for me--for my father!” “Your father thanked me this morning, Miss Colton. I saw him in his room and he thanked me. I did not deserve thanks. I was lucky, that was all.” “Father does not call it luck. He told me what you said to him.”