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“So you really supposed, sir,” she said, sitting near me, “that Captain Chesters married Miss Nugent?”

“I certainly did,” I answered.

“No doubt, thinking,” said Mary, with a smile, “that no man in his senses would marry anybody else when Miss Nugent was about, which was a very proper opinion, of course, considering your state of mind.”

“And let me say, sir,” said Captain Guy, “if I had married Miss Nugent, more people than you would have been dissatisfied. I would have been one of them, and I am sure Miss Nugent would have been another.”

“Count me as one of that party,” said Mary Phillips. “And now, Mr. Rockwell, you shall not be kept waiting a moment longer.”

“Of course she is safe and well,” I said, “or you would not be here, and before you say anything more about her, please tell me what you meant by that terrible word ‘but.'”

“But?” repeated Mary Phillips, with a puzzled expression. And Captain Guy echoed, “But? What but?”

“It was the last word I heard from you,” said I; “you shouted it to me when your vessel was going away for the last time. It has caused me a world of misery. It may have been followed by other words, but I did not catch them. I asked you if you had told her that I loved her, and you answered, ‘Yes, but–‘”

Captain Guy slapped his leg, “By George!” he said; “that was enough to put a man on the rack. Mary, you should have told him more than that.”

Mary Phillips wrinkled her forehead and gazed steadfastly into her lap. Suddenly she looked up.

“I remember it,” she said; “I remember exactly what I answered or tried to answer. I said, ‘Yes, but she knew it before.'”

I sprang to my feet. “What do you mean?” I cried.

“Of course she knew it,” she cried: “we must both have been very stupid if we hadn’t known that. We knew it before we left New York; and, for my part, I wondered why you didn’t tell her. But as you never mentioned it, of course it wasn’t for us to bring up the subject.”

“Bertha knew I loved her?” I ejaculated. “And what–and how–what did she say of it? What did she think of it?”

“Well,” said Mary Phillips, laughing, “I could never see that she doubted it; I could never see that she objected to it. In fact, from what she said, and, being just us two, of course she had to say a good many things to me, I think she was very glad to find out that you knew it as well as we did.”

“Mary Phillips!” I cried; “where is she? Tell me this moment!”

“Look here,” said Captain Guy, “you’re leaving me out of this business altogether. This is Mrs. Mary Chesters.”

“Mr. Rockwell will be all right when he gets over this flurry,” said Mary to her husband.

I acknowledged the correction with a nod, for I had no time then for words on the subject.

“Don’t get yourself flustered, sir,” said Mary. “You can’t go to her yet; it’s too early. You must give the family time to come down and have breakfast. I am not going to be party to a scene before breakfast nor in the middle of a meal. I know the ways and manners of that house, and I’ll send you at exactly the right time.”

I sat down. “Mary–Mrs.–“

“Don’t bother about names just now,” she interrupted; “I know who you’re speaking to.”

“Do you believe,” I continued, looking steadfastly at her, “that Bertha Nugent loves me?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “that it’s exactly my business to give this information, but under the circumstances I take it on myself to say that she most certainly does. And I tell you, and you may tell her if you like, that I would not have said this to you if I hadn’t believed this thing ought to be clinched the minute there was a chance to do it. It’s been hanging off and on long enough. Love you? Why, bless my soul, sir, she’s been thinking of nothing else for the past two or three days but the coming of the postman, expecting a letter from you, not considering that you didn’t know where to address her, or that it was rather scant time for a letter to come from La Guayra, where Captain Stearns would take you if he succeeded in picking you up.”