"That's all right, Roger," I muttered hastily, "it's the best use I'm
likely to make of it. Good-bye, old fellow. God bless you, Roger," and
I stumbled into the boat.

Caliban pulled hard at the oars and we slid away. I looked at them
once. For a full minute--dear fellow--he stared wistfully after me
(oh, Roger, you'll never forget, never, I know! Twenty-five years are
over and gone to-night, and the close, unrivalled companionship of
them, and I am alone from now on--but you'll not forget!) and then
they turned to each other and I was no more than a speck on the
evening water. "Put your back into it, man; get along, can't you?" I
growled to Caliban. We shot ahead and left them to each other, alone
under the heavy, yellow moon and the close, secret stars.

PART FOUR

IN WHICH THE STREAM WINDS THROUGH A
SULLEN MARSH AND BECOMES A BROOK

Alas for this unlucky womb!
Alas the breasts that suckled thee!
I would ha' laid thee in thy tomb
Or e'er that witch had wived with thee!

Alas my son that grew so strong!
Alas those hands I stretched to th' bow!
Or e'er thou heardst that wanton's song,
I'd shot thee long ago and long,
Through the black heart that's shamed me so!

_Sir Hugh and the Mermaiden._

CHAPTER XIII

STRAWS THAT SHOWED THE WIND

[TO ROGER FROM HIS COUSIN SARAH]

BOSTON, Sept. 7th, 188--

MY DEAR ROGER:

Your mother, I am sorry to say, is not physically able to
answer your surprising and most disturbing letter, and has
laid upon me the unpleasant task of doing so. It is, as you
somewhat brusquely say, unnecessary to discuss at any length
what you have done, since it is irrevocable. We can but
feel, however, that a thing so hastily entered upon can be
productive of no good (if, indeed, the matter has been as
sudden as you lead us to suppose).

To a woman of your mother's deep family pride this alliance
with a nameless girl from the streets, practically, if I am
to read your letter aright, can be nothing short of
humiliating. She instructs me to tell you that she can take
no cognisance of any such connection with any justice to the
family interests, and that although you will always be
welcome here, she cannot undertake to extend the welcome
further with any sincerity of heart.

I