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said Sir Tancred gloomily.
"I suppose he'll say that it was an unfortunate accident."
"Yes; but then, I ought to have protected you against unfortunate accidents. I'm afraid there'll be a lot of gossip."
"Well, it wasn't your fault," said Dorothy carelessly.
Sir Tancred grew more and more unhappy. His watch told him that it was nearly ten o'clock, and there was no sign of the _Petrel_. Moreover, the sense of their aloofness from the world had taken a firmer hold on him, and it drew him and Dorothy nearer and nearer together. The feeling that the world, of which her money had grown the symbol, would again come between them, grew more and more intolerable.
At last it grew too strong for him, and he stopped before her and said, in a voice he could not keep firm, "About that wasted life of mine, Dorothy. Do you think you could do anything with it?"
Dorothy gasped. "I might--I might try," she said in a whisper.
He stooped down, picked her up, and kissed her. Then, with a profound sigh of relief and content, he sat down beside her, drew her to him, and leaned back against the tree; she was crying softly.
They were far away from the world, and for them time stood still. They did not see the approaching lights of the _Petrel_, or hear the throb of her screw; only the roaring hail of Alphonse awoke them from their dream.
When they came on board, the observant Tinker saw the flush which came and went in Dorothy's cheeks, and the new light in his father's eyes; he saw her genuine surprise at finding herself so hungry. He observed that his father was quite careless about the cause of the _Petrel's_ long absence, and his angel face was wreathed with the contented smile of the truly meritorious.
After supper his father went on deck to watch the steering of the yacht; Elsie fell asleep; and Dorothy sat, lost in a dream.
"Is it all right?" said Tinker softly.
"I don't know what you mean. You're a horrid scheming little boy,"
said Dorothy with shameless ingrat.i.tude.
"Yes; but _is_ it all right?" said Tinker.
"I shan't let you scheme like that when--when I'm your mother," said Dorothy with virtuous severity, and she blushed.
"So it _is_ all right," said Tinker, and he chuckled.
THE END
