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Updated: May 27, 2025
Falkner carried off the Little Man for his promised boat ride, leaving Margaret to cut the leaves of her book and to think. It was the week before, the end of August, that Falkner had put into Bedmouth in his small sloop. He was staying with his sister at Lancaster, only a short walk on the other side of the Point.
In her summer dress she looked wasted, infinitely fragile. "This is not good-by," he said at last. "I shall go down the coast in a boat for a week, as I used to do when I was a boy, and my sister has a cottage at Lancaster. That is not far from Bedmouth?" "No, it isn't far," she answered softly. They paused and then walked back, as if all was not said yet.
I returned, to Mother Pole's house in Bedmouth, and I went up to the children's room and took my baby in my arms and kissed her, my little girl. And I knew that it had been right, all pure and holy, and I was glad, oh, so glad that it had been, that we had had the courage!" Isabelle pressed the hand she held close to her breast and watched the shining face.
Her mind would have wandered off to another dinner, to that cottage at Bedmouth, which she thought of taking for the summer, or to the handsome figure that John made on horseback.
That cottage at Bedmouth for the summer would have to be given up and other plans as well. At first she had refused to heed the warning, allowed John to go away to New York on business without confiding in him, at last accepted it regretfully.
Rob had to keep me from going crazy at first. But in the end you like it." "It settles Bedmouth this year!" "It is a bore," Bessie agreed sympathetically, feeling sorry for herself, as she was to have spent six weeks with Isabelle. "It takes a year out of a woman's life, of course, no matter how she is situated. And I'm so fearfully ugly all the time. But you won't be, your figure is better."
Above all, the secret that transforms! Had these others, too, gone into the great high places? They walked to the bridge while they waited for the Bedmouth train. Far down the harbor rose the tall masts of the Portuguese ship. "Bound for Demerara," murmured Falkner, with a smile; "we might be sailing for the Windward Islands?" "No," Margaret smiled back; "we love too much for that, you and I."
To my father the Bishop, this would be Sin. To that dear old lady over there in Bedmouth, who suffered all her life from a bullying husband and from a selfish son, and who is now too broken to think for herself, it would be Sin, anything not suffering would be Sin! But I know!" She raised her head proudly from his arms. "I know within me that this is the rightest thing in all my life.
"All the way here from Bedmouth I had a queer feeling that I was making a journey that I had made before, though I was never here in my life. And now it seems as if we had sat by this window some other day, it is all so expected!" she mused. And she thought how that morning when she got up, she had gone to her little girl, the baby Lilla, and kissed her.
It was best; it was his work, his life, and I should have been a poor weak fool to let our love stand in the way. So it was decided, and I urged him to go. He came to see me at Bedmouth before he left, a few days, a few hours of love. And we saw how it would have to be, that we should have to go on loving and living in the spirit, for as long as our love lasted, apart. We faced that. But but "
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