I promise
before you and God that he shall not be sorry, ever, that he has
raised me out of the dust."
She stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to the glass which covered
the photograph.
The wind held fair, a quartering offshore blow, and the schooner,
having discharged her cargo, just past noon spread her upper sails,
caught a gentle breeze of old Boreas, and shot out of the harbor and
so to the southward with a following wind which brought her to the
mouth of Big Wreck Cove long before nightfall.
Upon the bluff of Wreckers' Head was to be dimly seen the sprawling
Ball homestead. Tunis pointed it out to the passenger.
"That is where you are going to be happy, Ida May," he said to her
softly.
"I wonder," murmured the girl.
He looked down into her rapt face. The violet eyes were fixed upon
the old house and the brown-and-green fields immediately surrounding
it. Perhaps Cap'n Ira and Prudence were out there now, watching from
the front yard the white-winged _Seamew_ threading so saucily the
crooked passage into the cove, the sand bars on one hand and the
serried teeth of the Lighthouse Point Reef on the other.
Inside the cove the schooner's canvas was reduced smartly to merely
a topsail and jib, the wind in which carried her close enough to
Luiz Wharf for a line to be cast ashore.
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