failing strength.
"Will you, Gracie?" he begged. "It's the last thing I'm goin' to ask ofyou. I've tried to be sort of good to you, in my way, and--"
"Don't, don't!" she sobbed. "Let me think a minute, uncle, dear. Oh, dolet me think!"
"I ain't got time, Gracie. You'll have to say it now, or else--Allright, then, think; but think quick."
Grace was thinking. "If she really cares for him, she won't let him ruinhis life." That was what Captain Elkanah had said. And here was a way tosave him from ruin.
"Won't you say it for me, Gracie?" pleaded Captain Eben. She hesitatedno longer.
"Yes, uncle," she answered through tears, "if Nat wants me he can haveme."
Keziah clasped her hands. Captain Eben's face lit up with a great joy.
"Thank the Almighty!" he exclaimed. "Lord, I do thank you. Nat, boy,you're consider'ble older than she is and you'll have to plan for her.You be a good husband to her all her days, won't ye? Why, what are youwaitin' for? Why don't you answer me?"
Nat groaned aloud.
"A minute, dad," he stammered. "Just give me a minute, for Heaven sakes!Keziah--"
"Keziah!" repeated Eben. "Keziah? What are you talkin' to HER for? Sheknows there couldn't be no better match in the world. You do know it,don't ye, Keziah?"
"Yes," said Keziah slowly. "I guess--I guess you're right, Eben."
"Keziah Coffin," cried Nat Hammond, "do you tell me to marry Grace?"
"Yes, Nat, I--I think your father's right."
"Then--then--what difference does--All right, dad. Just as Grace says."
"Thank God!" cried Captain Eben. "Doctor, you and Mrs. Coffin arewitnesses to this. There! now my decks are clear and I'd better getready to land. Gracie, girl, the Good Book's over there on the bureau.Read me a chapter, won't you?"
An hour later Keziah sat alone in the dining room. She had stolen awaywhen the reading began. Dr. Parker, walking very softly, came to her andlaid his hand on her shoulder.
"He's gone," he said simply.
CHAPTER XIII
IN WHICH KEZIAH BREAKS THE NEWS
It was nearly five o'clock, gray dawn of what was to be a clear,beautiful summer morning, when Keziah softly lifted the latch andentered the parsonage. All night she had been busy at the Hammondtavern. Busy with the doctor and the undertaker, who had been calledfrom his bed by young Higgins; busy with Grace, soothing her, comfortingher as best she could, and petting her as a mother might pet astricken child. The poor girl was on the verge of prostration, and fromhysterical spasms of sobs and weeping passed to stretches of silent,dry-eyed agony which were harder to witness and much more to be feared.
"It is all my fault," she repeated over and over again. "All my fault! Ikilled him! I killed him, Aunt Keziah! What shall I do? Oh, why couldn'tI have died instead? It would have been so much better, better foreverybody."
"Ss-sh! ss-sh! deary," murmured the older woman. "Don't talk so; youmustn't talk so. Your uncle was ready to go. He's been ready for ever solong, and those of us who knew how feeble he was expected it any time.'Twa'n't your fault at all and he'd say so if he was here now."
"No, he wouldn't. He'd say just as I do, that I was to blame. You don'tknow, Aunt Keziah. Nobody knows but me."
"Maybe I do, Gracie, dear; maybe I do. Maybe I understand better'n youthink I do. And it's all been for the best. You'll think so, too, oneof these days. It seems hard now; it is awful hard, you poor thing, butit's all for the best, I'm sure. Best for everyone. It's a mercy he wentsudden and rational, same as he did. The doctor says that, if he hadn't,he'd have been helpless and bedridden and, maybe, out of his head foranother year. He couldn't have lived longer'n that, at the most."
"But you DON'T know, Aunt Keziah! You don't know what I--I AM to blame.I'll never forgive myself. And I'll never be happy again."
"Yes, you will. You'll come, some day, to think it was best and right,for you and--and for others. I know you think you'll never get over it,but you will. Somehow or other you will, same as the rest of us havehad to do. The Lord tries us mighty hard sometimes, but He gives us thestrength to bear it. There! there! don't, deary, don't."
Dr. Parker was very anxious.
"She must rest," he told Mrs. Coffin. "She must, or her brain will giveway. I'm going to give her something to make her sleep and you must gether to take it."
So Keziah tried and, at last, Grace did take the drug. In a little whileshe was sleeping, uneasily and with moans and sobbings, but sleeping,nevertheless.
"Now it's your turn, Keziah," said the doctor. "You go home now andrest, yourself. We don't need you any more just now."
"Where's--where's Cap'n Nat?" asked Keziah.
"He's in there with his father. He bears it well, although he is mightycut up. Poor chap, he seems to feel that he is to blame, somehow. SaysCap'n Eben and he had disagreed about something or other and he fearsthat hastened the old man's death. Nonsense, of course. It was bound tocome and I told him so. 'Twas those blasted Come-Outers who really didit, although I shan't say so to anyone but you. I'm glad Nat and thegirl have agreed to cruise together. It's a mighty good arrangement. Shecouldn't have a better man to look out for her and he couldn't have abetter wife. I suppose I'm at liberty to tell people of the engagement,hey?"
"Yes. Yes, I don't see any reason why not. Yes--I guess likely you'dbetter tell 'em."
"All right. Now you go home. You've had a hard night, like the rest ofus."
How hard he had no idea. And Keziah, as she wearily entered theparsonage, realized that the morning would be perhaps the hardestof all. For upon her rested the responsibility of seeing that theminister's secret was kept. And she, and no other, must break the newsto him.
The dining room was dark and gloomy. She lighted the lamp. Then sheheard a door open and Ellery's voice, as he called down the stairs.
"Who is it?" he demanded. "Mrs. Coffin?"
She was startled. "Yes," she said softly, after a moment. "Yes, Mr.Ellery, it's me. What are you doin' awake at such an hour's this?"
"Yes, I'm awake. I couldn't sleep well to-night, somehow. Too muchto think of, I imagine. But where have you been? Why weren't you atmeeting? And where--Why, it's almost morning!"
She did not answer at once. The temptation was to say nothing now, toput off the trying scene as long as possible.
"It's morning," repeated the minister. "Are you sick? Has anythinghappened?"
"Yes," she answered slowly, "somethin' has happened. Are you dressed?Could you come down?"
He replied that he would be down in a moment. When he came he foundher standing by the table waiting for him. The look of her face in thelamplight shocked him.
"Why, Mrs. Coffin!" he exclaimed. "What IS it? You look as if you hadbeen through some dreadful experience."
"Maybe I have," she replied. "Maybe I have. Experiences like that cometo us all in this life, to old folks and young, and we have to bear 'emlike men and women. That's the test we're put to, Mr. Ellery, and theway we come through the fire proves the stuff we're made of. Sorrows anddisappointments and heartbreaks and sicknesses and death--"
She paused on the word. He interrupted her.
"Death?" he repeated. "Death? Is some one dead, some one I know? Mrs.Coffin, what is it you are trying to tell me?"
Her heart went out to him. She held out both her hands.
"You poor boy," she cried, "I'm trying to tell you one of the hardestthings a body can tell. Yes, some one is dead, but that ain't all. EbenHammond, poor soul, is out of his troubles and gone."
"Eben Hammond! Captain Eben? Dead! Why, why--"
"Yes, Eben's gone. He was took down sudden and died about ten o'clocklast night. I was there and--"
"Captain Eben dead! Why, he was as well as--as--She said--Oh, I must go!I must go at once!"
He was on his way to the door, but she held it shut.
"No," she said gravely, "you mustn't go. You mustn't go, Mr. Ellery.That's the one thing you mustn't do."
"You don't understand. By an
d by I can tell you why I must be there, butnow--"
"I do understand. I understand it all. Lord help us! if I'd onlyunderstood sooner, how much of this might have been spared. Why
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