Mrs. Force turned from them and opened the door on the left and preceded Le into the little parlor.

When they were both in the room, the lady shut the door and turned the key, and motioned Le to take one armchair on one side of the center table, while she herself sank into the other, saying:

"Now then, Le, dear boy, I am ready to hear what you wish to say to me."

"Maybe you know, Aunt Elfrida, that I am going to sea in a few days," he said, leaning over the table toward her.

"Yes, Le, I heard so from your uncle, and was very sorry to hear it, dear boy."

"I suppose my uncle told you why--just as I had come into a rich inheritance--I applied for sailing orders?"

"Yes, Le."

"And why, though now I would like to resign, I cannot, in honor, do so?"

"He told me all, Le."

"I shall be gone for three years, Aunt Elfrida."

"I know it, and I am very sorry."

"I--I shall leave you all on the second of January--and--and before I go I would like to have an understanding with you about--about Odalite," said Le, stammering and blushing as if he had been asking for the hand of his sweetheart for the first time; but, then, it was so soon after her broken marriage, and his act seemed so audacious.

The lady turned pale and gripped the edge of the table for support. It had come, then, the ordeal she had dreaded so much.

"Odalite!" she faltered.

"Yes, Aunt Elfrida; and I should ask your pardon for speaking of my hopes just now! And I should not presume to do so, only that I am going away so soon, and am to be gone so long," faltered the lover, blushing more intensely than before.

"What have you to say of Odalite, then?" inquired the lady.

"Oh, Aunt Elfrida! Can you ask? I wish, first of all, your permission to correspond with her while I am away, just as I did before, you know! And then, most of all, I wish that it shall be understood--just as it was before--that when I return from my next voyage Odalite and I may be married. And--and, of course, I shall leave the navy then and settle down with Odalite at Greenbushes--just as it was understood and arranged that we should do before--before the stranger came to trouble us. That is what I want and hope and pray for, Aunt Elfrida!" pleaded the lover.

The lady's head was dropped upon her hand while her elbow rested on the table. She was silent and thoughtful for a few moments, that seemed hours to Le's anxiety, and then she asked:

"Do you think it right, dear boy, to approach a young girl on the subject of a second engagement so soon after the disruption of her marriage at the altar?"

The question was not unkindly put, yet the blush deepened on the youth's cheek.

"I said that I would not mention the subject now but that I am going away in so few days, and for years! Nor would I, even under these circ.u.mstances, if it were not that"--he suddenly caught himself up and stopped. He had been on the brink of involuntarily betraying Odalite's confidence and adding: "Odalite herself admits that she has no regret for her broken-off marriage, and never really cared for any one but her first lover;" for Le was all unaccustomed to having secrets to keep.

"What were you going to add, dear boy? 'If it were not that'--what?"

inquired the lady, who had observed his hesitation and embarra.s.sment.

"If it were not that I know her to be quite free," he answered, diplomatically.

"But is she quite free, Leonidas?" gravely questioned the lady.

"Is she not?" demanded the youth, in astonishment.

"I do not know, my boy! I am not sure! But oh, Le! I have never breathed a doubt on this subject to her! And do not you breathe this to any living soul!" solemnly replied the lady.

"Great Sphinx of Egypt!" said the youth to himself. "Have I got to keep the secrets of each one from all the others? And without even having the satisfaction of knowing what the secrets are?"

"Listen to me, Le," said the lady, kindly. "I have no objection to your corresponding with Odalite while you are on your voyage; but there must be no engagement, or hint of an engagement between you, either before you go or in any of your letters. Moreover, your letters must not be directed immediately to Odalite, but under cover to me."

"I thank you for even so much grace, Aunt Elfrida; but why may not my letters be directed to Odalite?"

"Because they might get her unjustly and disrespectfully talked about,"

said she, evasively.

"But, oh, Aunt Elfrida! why should you doubt that Odalite is free? Why, the fact is abundantly proven."

"No, dear boy, there is where the trouble is. We think it was proven, but we are not sure. What we are sure of is this--that there was a marriage ceremony performed by special license, and by a regularly ordained minister of the gospel, and in the presence of more than a hundred witnesses, between Angus Anglesea and Odalite Force, and which, if both parties were free to contract marriage at the time, binds them together as man and wife for the term of their natural lives. That is all that we positively know, Le," gravely replied the lady.

The youth sprang up from his chair with a cry of pain.

"I cannot bear to think of that!" he said, as he dropped again into his seat. "But it cannot be true! The news from St. Sebastian proves that the man was the husband of another woman at the time that he tried to marry your daughter--and that therefore the ceremony was no marriage at all, and she is free."

"Leonidas, let me put a possible case. Suppose that when Anglesea married the Californian widow he had an invalid wife living at the time in England. Then the marriage with the Californian would have been of no effect. Suppose, in the interim between the ceremony performed in the church at St. Sebastian and this performed at All Faith Church, the invalid wife had died--then the last marriage would be legal and binding."

"Oh, Aunt Elfrida. Why do you suppose such dreadful conditions?" exclaimed the youth.

"Because, my poor boy, I have reason to believe them to be the true conditions," sorrowfully replied the lady.

The youth sprang up and walked the floor in great excitement.

"What reasons have you for thinking as you do?" he at length demanded.

"I cannot tell you now, dear boy."

"But you do not know this to be the case? You only think so?" he questioned.

"No, I do not know it; because I cannot rely upon the truthfulness of my informant, nor on the genuineness of the evidence offered."

"Who was your informant, Aunt Elfrida?"

"I cannot tell you, Le."

"But, anyhow, I am sure if that villain had any claim at all on Odalite, brute that he was, he would have pushed it to extremity!"

"No doubt he would if he had dared, but he dared not, Le! If he had claimed Odalite as his lawful wife, on the ground that his former marriage with Mrs. Wright was an illegal one, upon account of the fact of his having had a wife living at the time it was contracted, and dead since, be sure that the honest California woman, finding herself deceived, would have prosecuted him for bigamy, and our courts would have punished him with the utmost rigor of the law! So, though he might have a lawful claim on Odalite, he dared not press it! No, nor dared he even to remain in the country. You know that he has sailed for England."

"Yes, thank Heaven! But, oh, Aunt Elfrida, if there should be any foundation for your fears that Anglesea has any claim on Odalite, then Uncle Abel should see to it at once and have her freed from such a monster by course of law," vehemently exclaimed Le.

"And so he should, if there were any certainty about that claim; but there is none. Odalite may be free or she may not be. We cannot be sure until we know more of the man's antecedents. Le, you must be patient, and very prudent. Odalite's position is a very delicate one. You must not think of entering into any engagement with her at present, or doing anything, or saying anything, or writing anything that shall compromise her in the very slightest degree. I am very sure that you would not, Le."

"I would die first," earnestly answered the youth.