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"Sunnysides?" cried Huntington excitedly. "I believe so." "He will, will he?" chuckled Huntington. "That serves " "But Marion?" interrupted Claire. "What about Marion?" Hillyer looked doubtfully from one to the other, in much embarrassment. What did they know? Or were they as ignorant as he of the situation that had been revealed to him as if by the flash of a thunderbolt?
"I judge from your manner," said Hillyer at length, when he had controlled himself, "that you dislike her being there as much as I do. But as I am all in the dark, I'll be greatly obliged to you if you will answer my question. Who is Philip Haig?" "That's what I'd like to know!" blurted out Huntington. Hillyer made a gesture of impatience. "But he's your neighbor," he said curtly.
Some believed that Sammy Hillyer knew it; others said no. If asked, Hillyer said no, he was not acquainted with it. Flint had a meek English youth of sixteen or seventeen with him, whom he treated roughly, both in public and in private, and of course this lad was applied to for information, but with no success.
Marion was tired, and disinclined to talk, while Hillyer, on his side, had his mind fully occupied, between his deal in mines and his deal in love, in both of which he had encountered unexpected difficulties. Only Claire was gay and untroubled, and she accepted eagerly the task of saving the party from awkward silences.
Accordingly, a lieutenant was sent on board the new arrival, the visit being promptly returned by an officer of similar rank from the Cadmus, who, after exchanging the usual civilities, delivered himself of a polite message from Captain Hillyer, to the effect, that as the Sumter was the first vessel he had as yet fallen in with under the flag of the Confederate States, he would be obliged if Captain Semmes would favor him with a sight of his commission.
"Watch me!" retorted Claire, turning swiftly, and running toward her bedroom. But halfway there she stopped. "No, don't watch me! You just go and look after the cattle. Leave this Mr. Haig to us, and he'll be the best friend you ever had before Marion and I get through with him." Hillyer, recovering from his amazement, stepped smiling to where she stood, and reached both his hands to her. "Mrs.
"But there isn't any hatred therewith!" cried Hillyer desperately. "I love you, Marion, and if you don't love me you don't hate me. So there's more than half of it, and can't we trust the future a little bit?" "No." "But what are you going to do?" he asked, shifting his line of attack. "I don't know," she replied, with a helpless gesture.
With Hillyer and Smythe silently following, she ran to the cottage, and through the open door. There she found herself in a bare, uncarpeted room, furnished only with two chairs and a table. On the table lay a faded and battered gray hat. For an instant her gaze rested on it, and a lump rose in her throat. But she resolutely turned away, tightening her lips.
"It puts me past my patience," said he, turning into Tibble's special workshop one afternoon. "Here hath Mistress Hillyer of the Eagle been with me full of proposals that I would give my poor wench to that scapegrace lad of hers, who hath been twice called to account before the guild, but who now, forsooth, is to turn over a new leaf." "So I wis would the Dragon under him," quoth Tibble.
For once in many moons she was allowed to talk unchecked, and she made the most of her opportunity. After supper, Marion announced her purpose to go to bed at once. She was sure, she declared, that she could sleep "around the clock." "I'll be off before you're up, then," said Hillyer. "You must go to-morrow?" asked Claire. "Absolutely. It means thousands."
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