am his mother and will always be--always,
because I will stand by my fault. That is a redemption in itself, and
that is the only thing that saves me from remorse. You and I, outside
of his father and mother, are the only ones living that know of his
parentage. The world has long since forgotten the little they
suspected. Let it rest; no good could come--only suffering and misery.
To stir it now would only open old wounds and, worst of all, it would
make a new one."

"In you?"

"No, worse than that. My heart is already scarred all over; no fresh
wound would hurt."

"In the doctor?"

"Yes and no. He has never asked the truth and I have never told him."

"Who, then?"

"In little Ellen. Let us keep that one flower untouched."

The captain rested his head in his hand, and for some minutes made no
answer. Ellen was the apple of his eye.

"But if Bart insists?"

"He won't insist when he sees Lucy. She is no more the woman that he
loved and wronged than I am. He would not know her if he met her
outside this house."

"What shall I do?"

"Nothing. Let matters take their course. If he is the man you think he
is he will never break the silence."

"And you will suffer on--and the doctor?"

Jane bowed her head and the tears sprang to her eyes.

"Yes, always; there is nothing else to do."

CHAPTER XX

THE UNDERTOW

Within the month a second letter was handed to the captain by Tod, now
regularly installed as postman. It was in answer to one of Captain
Holt's which he had directed to the expected steamer and which had met
the exile on his arrival. It was dated "Amboy," began "My dear father,"
and was signed "Your affectionate son, Barton."

This conveyed the welcome intelligence--welcome to the father--that the
writer would be detained a few days in Amboy inspecting the new
machinery, after which he would take passage for Barnegat by the Polly
Walters, Farguson's weekly packet. Then these lines followed: "It will
be the happiest day of my life when I can come into the inlet at high
tide and see my home in the distance."

Again the captain sought Jane.

She was still at the hospital, nursing some shipwrecked men--three with
internal injuries--who had been brought in from Forked River Station,
the crew having rescued them the week before. Two of the regular
attendants were worn out with the constant nursing, and so Jane
continued her vigils.

She had kept at her work--turning neither to the right nor