Page:The Dark Frigate (Hawes).djvu/58

shapely head, the curves of neck and shoulders, the full bosom, the bare arms. But his mind was still set on that other matter and he persisted in his design. “I want,” he said slowly, “to see them—to see them without their knowing or any one's knowing—except you and me.” Here he met her at her own game, and he was not so far carried away but that he could inwardly smile to see his own shot tell.

“They have supped in the little parlor and are sitting there by the fire,” she whispered. “It may cost me my place—but—”

Again she looked at him under her long lashes. He gave her as good as she sent, and she whispered, “Come then—come.”

Martin gave an angry snort over his beer, but she returned a hot glance and an impatient gesture. With Phil pressing close at her heels she led the way out of the kitchen and down a long passage. Stopping with her finer on her lips, she very quietly opened a door and motioned him forward. Again her finger at her lips! With her eyes she implored silence.

Without so much as the creaking of a board he stepped through the door. A second door, which stood ajar, led into the little parlor and through the crack he saw an old man with long white hair and beard—an old man with a kindly face mellowed by years of study, perhaps by years of disappointment and anxiety. The old man's eyes were shut, for he was dozing. In a chair on the other side of the hearth a lady sat, but only the rich border of her gown showed through the partly open door.

The lad stood there with a lump in his throat and a eurious mingling of emotions in his heart and head. It