instant before it had been all about them, shutting them within inky
walls. Now it was not. Through the rain he could see the shadowy
silhouettes of bushes at the road side. Fifty yards away the lighted
windows of the Hammond tavern gleamed yellow. Farther on, over a ragged,
moving fringe of grass and weeds, was a black flat expanse--the bay. And
a little way out upon that expanse twinkled the lights of a vessel. A
chain rattled. Voices shouting exultingly came to their ears.

"Why!" exclaimed Grace in excited wonder, "it's the packet! She was due
this morning, but we didn't expect her in till to-morrow. How did she
find her way in the fog? I must tell uncle."

She started to run toward the house. The minister would have followed
with the umbrella, but she stopped him.

"No, Mr. Ellery," she urged earnestly. "No, please don't. I'm all right
now. Thank you. Good night."

A few steps farther on she turned.

"I hope Cap'n Elkanah won't know," she whispered, the laugh returning to
her voice. "Good night."

Ellery stood still in the rain and watched her. He saw her pass the
lighted windows and open a door. Into the yellow radiance she flashed
and disappeared. A minute more and the bulky form of Eben Hammond,
lantern in hand, a sou'wester on his head and his shoulders working
themselves into an oilskin coat, burst out of the door and hurriedly
limped down toward the shore. On the threshold, framed in light, stood
his ward, gazing after him. And the minister gazed at her.