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Still, to go back to Master Farwell's just then was impossible, and Priscilla turned toward the wood road leading to the Far Hill Place. She had no plan, no purpose. She was drifting, drifting, and could not see her way. The bright sun touched her comfortingly. In the shadow it was chilly; but the red rock was warm and luring.
Never let her know the truth, now I am going going to start on My Road! I do not care where it leads, it is mine, and I am not afraid." In her ignorance and defiance she was splendid and stirred the dead embers of Farwell's imagination to something like life.
And the encounter seemed and was the most natural thing in the world. She did not stop to ask herself why it was so fitting that the Viking should be a part of Vineland: why his coming should have given it the one and final needful touch. For that designation of Reginald Farwell's had come back to her.
"Why are you so anxious to leave me, Grace?" asked the nurse with a smile. The girl's eyes eyes that would never now be wholly free from that shadow of fear and pain filled with tears. She put out a hand impulsively, touching Miss Farwell's knee. "Oh, don't say that!" she exclaimed, with a little catch in her voice. "You know it isn't that."
To be sure he was tact itself in making Priscilla feel at ease; but that only confirmed her in her belief that he wanted to please Margaret to the uttermost. Often Priscilla recalled, with keener appreciation, John Boswell's description of Anton Farwell's conception of friendship. In like manner Margaret Moffatt claimed for her companion all that justly belonged to herself.
Charity was still watching suspiciously. At the minister's words she started and a touch of color came into her pale cheeks, while at Miss Farwell's answer the look of suspicion in her eyes deepened. What could it mean? Dan's embarrassment was unmistakable. Before he could find words to reply, the sick woman exclaimed, "Why, how strange! Do tell us about it, Brother Matthews.
He declared that Captain Farwell had killed two natives, and that old King Cracko, since deceased, had punished the captain by death, in the exercise of his legitimate authority. He denied that the tribe had participated in Captain Farwell's murder, or in those of the mate and crew, or in the robbery of the vessel; affirming that the schooner had gone ashore, and that everything was lost.
And the encounter seemed and was the most natural thing in the world. She did not stop to ask herself why it was so fitting that the Viking should be a part of Vineland: why his coming should have given it the one and final needful touch. For that designation of Reginald Farwell's had come back to her.
"What, Priscilla?" "You!" "And now," Travers got upon his feet and drew her up; "do you know what is going to happen?" "Can anything more happen to-day?" "We are going to Master Farwell's, you and I. We are going to take him with us to the little chapel down the Channel; there we'll leave Priscilla Glenn, and, in her place, bring Priscilla Travers forth."
The pale boy he once had been taunted him with memories of lowered ideals, unfilled promise and purpose. He had travelled a long distance from the Far Hill Place, and he was going back to fight it out somehow, somewhere. He would stop at Master Farwell's and then take the night steamer for the old battle-ground.
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