Chapter XVII: Freed!

In the same little parlor of the inn in which he had lunched with Emily the day before, Revere awaited the entrance of his mother and Josephine. His mother entered first and immediately clasped him in fond embrace.

"Oh, Richard!" she exclaimed, tearfully; "I have been so miserable about you! You never said a word about the gravity of your accident, and I only learned about it accidentally. You are not suffering, are you? You have sustained no serious consequences?"

"No, mother dear; I'm all right. In fact, I feel better than I have felt for six months. It really did me good. It was awfully good of you to come to see about me, though. I should have written and told you all about it and assured you that nothing serious was the matter, but I thought it would alarm you if I did; if I dwelt upon it too fully, that is. I'm very glad to see you; but there was no real necessity for your coming."

"Richard," she answered, hesitatingly, with a long sigh of regret, "I did not come only on that account. To be perfectly frank with you, Josephine--you have not yet greeted her."

She stopped abruptly. He turned and faced Josephine, who had stood constrainedly in the door-way, apparently an unwilling witness of the meeting.

"Oh," he said to her; "how do you do, Josephine? I'm awfully glad to see you."

He had hitherto always signalized meetings of this kind by kissing her, generally upon the forehead or cheek. With a vivid recollection of his present situation, however, he hesitated awkwardly, and then concluded that it would be better to act as if nothing had happened. But to his great surprise the objection came from the young lady herself. As if she had divined something of his mental attitude, she drew back her head and thrust out her hand. He took it, feeling very much embarrassed, yet greatly relieved.

"What a greeting," said his mother, "between--but I forget. Josephine has something to say to you, Richard. She has made a decision which is a source of lasting grief to me, and will be to all who know you. I am sure it will be a great shock to you. Prepare yourself, my poor boy."

"Didn't you get my letter, Josephine?" said Richard, impetuously.

"No; I didn't receive any letter."

"Oh, then, you didn't----"

"Didn't what?"

"Well, er--nothing. What was it you wanted to say to me?"

"Richard," said the girl, "I may as well be frank with you. I----" She hesitated and turned her face away. "I want to break our engagement."

"Want to break our engagement!" he exclaimed, dazed at this development. "Why--I----"

"Yes," she said, honestly; "frankly, I do not believe that I care enough for you to marry you."

"But, Josephine----"

"Yes, yes; I know what you would say. I thought I loved you; but since I have come to know--Mr. Van Dorn, I am sure----"

"Josephine Remington, you don't mean to tell me that you have thrown me over for Charlie Van Dorn? Why, he----"

"Richard, don't say another word! I love Mr. Van Dorn, and he loves me, and I have promised to be his wife," with great dignity.

"Great heavens!" answered Richard, trying desperately to keep his happiness at this announcement out of his voice and out of his face; and yet he had to confess that he felt extremely annoyed at being rejected in this summary manner for a man who he conceived to be in every way inferior to himself.

He rejoiced, certainly; but the situation had elements of unpleasantness. For a moment or two these had predominated, but as he realized that he was free, he could hardly keep from shouting for joy. Indeed, he felt that his face would betray his secret, and he instinctively turned away from the two women, who were intently watching him, and covered it with his hand as he did so.

"Oh, Richard!" cried Josephine, contritely, "I'm so sorry; I didn't think you cared so much. I thought you felt as I do about the engagement,--only that it was an agreed thing, and everybody more or less expected it,--not that we loved each other very much--I'm so sorry."

"My poor boy!" said his mother, coming up and laying her hand tenderly on his bowed head; "this is nearly as great a disappointment to me as it must be to you, although, of course, my grief cannot be like yours. Josephine, why didn't you wait a little longer? And in his weak state, too!"

"Never mind," said Revere, smiling--they thought him smiling bravely, by the way!--"I dare say I shall get over it; and if Josephine really loves Charlie Van Dorn, who is a splendid fellow, of course it is very much better that she should tell me frankly than feel that she must remain bound by an engagement in which her heart does not enter. Let us say no more about it. I will take my medicine like a man," he continued, mendaciously; "and I congratulate you, Josephine, on your pluck. I presume that I may kiss you now, just as I have done before," he said, touching his lips to her forehead as he spoke.

"Yes, Richard. But I am sure they were never very lover-like kisses at best."

"Not like Van Dorn's, eh!" said Richard, smiling.

"Richard, how can you jest about so serious a subject?" exclaimed his mother. "Poor boy!" she said aside to Josephine; "I fear his nerves are shattered."

"They are, mother, they are," exclaimed Richard, rapturously, giving her a bear-like hug; "but it's all right."

"Then, you don't care so very much, after all?" said Josephine, in her turn disappointed at the equanimity, not to say levity, with which her quondam lover received the news of her engagement to another man.

"Care? Of course I care! There, don't say anything more about it. Mother, did they tell you that my life was saved by a--er--a young woman?"

Ah, Richard, where was Barry then?

"A young woman!" exclaimed his mother, peering at him through her lorgnette in her very best Boston manner. "What sort of a person is she?"

"She is not a person at all, mother," he answered, hotly and inconsequentially; "she is a charming young girl, the granddaughter of one of the most distinguished officers in the United States navy. And she is as beautiful as she is brave and good."

"And who may this distinguished man be?" asked his mother, doubtfully.

"Admiral Charles Stewart, of the _Constitution_."

"Mercy!" she exclaimed. "Is he yet alive? I remember hearing of him when I was a little girl."

"He is very much alive and his granddaughter lives with him over yonder," he answered, pointing out of the window across the bay toward the old white house embowered in the trees on Ship House Point. "That is his home, and he bade me say to you that he would be honored to have you and Josephine accept his hospitality while you are here. He begs to be excused for his apparent discourtesy in not coming to invite you in person, but he is unable to leave the house, he is so old and feeble. His granddaughter, however, will call this afternoon and extend the invitation, if it will be agreeable to you."

"I do not think we should stand on ceremony, Josephine, under the circumstances, and we will go ourselves and call upon the admiral immediately," said Mrs. Revere. "I should like to see this young lady and thank her for Richard. How shall we get there, Dick?"

"I will row you over if you will allow me. There is a road by land, but this is a quicker and pleasanter way."

"Excuse me, Richard; I think we would better go by land. I presume you can get some sort of a carriage. I confess I am not fond of boats at best, and since you were wrecked in the _Josephine_ I have a horror of venturing on them."

"Very well, mother; I will make all the arrangements, and meanwhile go back to the admiral and tell him to expect you."

"Do so," said his mother; "we will go and make ready. Come, Josephine."

"Presently," answered Miss Remington; "I wish to speak to Dick a minute."

"Richard," said his whilom fiancee, when they were alone, "are you in love with that girl?"

"Well, er----"

"Answer me honestly!"

"I think it is very likely that I shall be, Josephine," he responded at last. "You see, since you have thrown me over I----"

"Dick Revere, I believe you are in love with her now; I don't believe you care a single bit whether I throw you over or not."

"Care!" exclaimed Revere. "I care immensely, I want to assure you, Josephine. But I really do not see, since you have thrown me over, that you have any right to object to my falling in love with anybody else, have you?"

"Oh, very well," said Josephine, petulantly; "no doubt what you say is true; but one thing is certain: I am just as anxious to see that girl as your mother is."

"Just about as anxious, I suppose," laughed Revere, "as I should be to see Charlie Van Dorn if I hadn't seen him until I am sick of the sight of him!" he said, meanly. "Well, prepare yourself, Miss Josephine Remington; you will see something charming when you do see 'that girl'! Good-by!"