Chapter XXI

All thought of her own troubles temporarily banished by her interest in the romance of Lemuel Gill, Peggy with light step retraced her way through the pines until she reached the lane leading from Lemmy’s shack to the Holmes’s. She had not been to the Dolphin for several days lest she encounter Eric there. But now, swept out of herself, Eric did not seem to matter. She was too happy to give him a thought.

Who would have dreamed of dear, artless little Lemmy being mixed up in a love affair! Certainly Cupid was no respecter of persons--or ages, either. With all her soul she prayed his cause might prosper. She could not imagine a woman denying so appealing and lovable a suitor. Only the stony-hearted could resist him and Rebecca was far from being that.

How fitting the marriage would be, and what a home ’Becca would make for poor, incompetent Lemmy, who, since Asaph’s desertion, had put up such a brave fight against loneliness! Already in imagination she could picture the new mistress ensconced in the wee house; see her moving cheerily about the garden; hear Lemuel call to her to come and inspect his budding roses, and catch echoes of Rebecca’s delight at their unfurling bloom. The pair would be like another Darby and Joan. And close at hand would be Asaph and Althea. Why, the match was heaven-made!

Buoyed up by the joy of it Peggy felt gayer than she had in weeks, and with swift resolution decided to run in while yet the mood possessed her and make a morning call at the Dolphin, such a call as she had been accustomed to making before misery and misunderstanding had clouded her sky. With this end in view she moved merrily down the lane and unobserved entered the Holmes’s garden.

Drowsy in the sunshine the place was fragrant with honeysuckle, roses, and the scent of blossoming grapevine. Only the music of the surf, the humming of bees, and the whisper of the breeze that stirred the crowns of the surrounding pines disturbed its stillness. For a moment the girl stood motionless, letting the balm of its beauty seep with healing into her soul. After all God was in His heaven and all must be right with the world. She reproached herself that she had ever doubted it.

For an instant she lingered on these Elysian heights, then crashed to earth and recoiled, breathless.

Invading her Eden she saw two figures. One was Eleanor Parker’s and the other that of a man whose arm was stealing tenderly about her.

There was no need for her to see more nor, indeed, had she the desire to do so. Creeping miserably away she moved off toward the shore.

Ah, what a sorry tangle she had made of life! With happiness well within reach she had capriciously tossed it aside until it had slipped too far beyond her grasp for her to recover it. Vanity had beckoned and she now reaped its harvest. Well, she had no one to blame for the tragedy but herself. Nevertheless that fact did not make it easier to view as an idle spectator the joy that might have been hers.

To surrender the man she loved to another woman! Her unselfishness was put to a terrible test. Could she forget herself and think only of him? That was the question. If she really cared she must desire he should have every blessing. She did desire it. Her task would now be to show him how genuine was this wish--show him with such self-effacing devotion that neither he nor anyone else should suspect her secret or the price of her sacrifice. Pride would help her to play out the game in true sporting spirit.

Occupied with these thoughts she sped on, seeking a curve of the beach that made up into a meandering little creek that was a favorite haunt of hers. The breeze sweeping the sea brought with it the refreshing tang of measureless miles of ocean and, calmed by its breath, she at length sat down on the solitary beach and watched the tide steal higher and higher up the reach of sand.

The stillness of the place and the dull, monotonous rumble of the surf soothed her and gave her courage. Already she felt strengthened for the coming ordeal.

Then she became conscious of a presence beside her and turning saw Eric Hollingsworth.

His appearance was so unexpected that she could not make it real, and she gave a low, nervous cry of fear.

Had she not left him in the Holmes’s garden?

Evidently the sight of her caused him a corresponding shock, for it was the last place in the world he expected to encounter anybody--much less Peggy.

With wordless wonder the two regarded one another. Then Eric dropped to the ground and whispered her name.

“Peggy!”

A power miraculous must have been in the word, some potent charm that breathed love rather than voiced it, for with the utterance jealousies and misunderstandings vanished and eye spoke to eye, heart to heart. What further need was there of speech?

“But--but--Eleanor?” the girl stammered at last.

“Eleanor?”

“Yes. Miss Parker. I thought--wasn’t it you in the garden just now?”

“I!”

“There was somebody with her--a man. I thought it was you.”

“I haven’t been near the Holmes’s today.”

“I certainly thought--it looked like you. But of course I must have been mistaken. I begin to think the entire day a dream.”

“This is no dream, sweetheart. It is the last few weeks that have been the hideous unreality.”

“Oh, I’ve been so wretched, Eric--so wretched and so silly!”

“And I, too, Peggy!” He held her closer.

“I thought you--”

“And I was sure that you--”

They laughed into one another’s faces.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” Peggy cried.

“It’s like magic! Why, only half an hour ago I had resolved to leave Belleport tomorrow.”

“Go home!”

“Yes. What use was it for me to stay if you preferred Shattuck?”

“But I didn’t!” dimpled Peggy.

“How was I to know that, pray?”

“You didn’t seem to care much,” pouted his lady. “You were so taken up with Eleanor Parker--”

“Taken up with her! Dear child, do you realize she is already engaged to a chap in Springfield? She confided the secret to me at the outset.”

“O----h!” Then, as if an inspiration had come, Peggy cried: “Do you suppose it could have been he I saw in the Holmes’s garden?”

“Perhaps,” answered Eric carelessly. “She said she was expecting him down here sometime soon. I hope he’s a good sort, for she is a corking fine girl and worthy of the best.”

“She isn’t going to have the best for all that,” laughed Peggy as they rose from the sands.

For a long, delicious interval, forgetful of all else, they stood at the water’s edge. Then the girl said:

“We must go back, dear.”

“I suppose so--sometime. But don’t let’s go yet.”

“We must,” Peggy repeated.

Yet for all that they did not stir.

“Come, Eric--please!”

“W--e--ll. But where shall we go? Whom shall we break the news to first? What do you say we hunt up Lemmy Gill and give him the surprise of his life?”

“He’s not at home. He and Rebecca Crosby--” she clapped her hand over her mouth.

“Peggy! You don’t mean to say that they--By Jove! Why, I never suspected such a thing! Think of Lemmy the hero of a romance!”

“I only hope the affair will turn out right,” Peggy declared earnestly. “He is such a dear!”

“I hope so with all my heart. Well, if Lemuel has gone a-courting let us find the Holmeses. It is almost their due to be the first to hear the tidings, anyway.”

“So it is!”

Nevertheless, in spite of this resolution there proved to be many additional rites that had to be gone through with before the lovers left the sea’s margin. There were more explanations, tears, kisses. Higher and higher the sun rose into the blue; brighter and brighter flashed the water.

“Why, it must be near noon,” gasped Peggy at last. “Where has the morning gone?”

Of the flight of its jewelled hours only the sandpipers, the quietly advancing tide, and the zephyrs that stirred the bronzed marsh grass could tell.