The Woman-Haters Part 24

Suddenly he heard sounds, faint, but perceptible, above the low grumble of the surf. They were repeated, the sounds of breaking sticks, as if some one was moving through the briers and bushes beyond the stable.

Some one was moving there, coming along the path from the upper end of the cove. Around the corner of the stable a bulky figure appeared. It came on until it stood beneath the balcony.

"Seth," called a low voice; "Seth, are you there?"

For a moment the agitated lightkeeper could not trust his voice to answer.

"Seth," repeated the voice; "Seth."

The figure was moving off in the direction of the other tower. Then Seth answered.

"Here--here I be," he stammered, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Who is it?"

He knew who it was, perfectly well; the question was quite superfluous.

"It's me," said the voice. "Let me in, I've got to talk to you."

Slowly, scarcely certain that this was not a part of some dreadful nightmare, Seth descended the iron ladder to the foot of the tower, dragged his faltering feet to the door, and slowly swung it open. The bulky figure entered instantly.

"Shut the door," said Mrs. Bascom.

"Hey? What?" stammered Seth.

"I say, shut that door. Hurry up! Land sakes, HURRY! Do you suppose I want anybody to know I'm here?"

The lightkeeper closed the door. The clang reverberated through the tower like distant thunder. The visitor started nervously.

"Mercy!" she exclaimed; "what a racket! What made you slam it?"

"Didn't," grumbled Seth. "Any kind of a noise sounds up in here."

"I should think as much. It's enough to wake the dead."

"Ain't n.o.body BUT the dead to wake in this place."

"Yes, there is; there's that young man of yours, that Brown one. He ain't dead, is he?"

"Humph! he's asleep, and that's next door to dead--with him."

"Well, I'm glad of it. My nerves are pretty steady as a general thing, but I declare I'm all of a twitter to-night--and no wonder. It's darker than a pocket in here. Can't we have a light?"

Atkins stumbled across the stone floor and took the lantern from the hook by the stairs. He struck a match, and it went out; he tried another, with the same result. Mrs. Bascom fidgeted.

"Mercy on us!" she cried; "what DOES ail the thing?"

Seth's trembling fingers could scarcely hold the third match. He raked it across the whitewashed wall and broke the head short off.

"Thunder to mighty!" he snarled, under his breath.

"But what DOES--"

"What does? What do you s'pose? You ain't the only one that's got nerves, are you?"

The next trial was successful, and the lantern was lighted. With it in his hand, he turned and faced his caller. They looked at each other.

Mrs. Bascom drew a long breath.

"It is you," she said. "I couldn't scarcely believe it. It is really you."

Seth's answer was almost a groan. "It's you," he said. "You--down here."

This ended the conversation for another minute. Then the lady seemed to awake to the realities of the situation.

"Yes," she said, "it's me--and it's you. We're here, both of us. Though why on earth YOU should be, I don't know."

"Me? Me? Why, I belong here. But you--what in time sent you here?

Unless," with returning suspicion, "you came because I--"

He paused, warned by the expression on his caller's face.

"What was that?" she demanded.

"Nothin'."

"Nothin', I guess. If you was flatterin' yourself with the idea that I came here to chase after you, you never was more mistaken in your life, or ever will be. You set down. You and I have got to talk. Set right down."

The lightkeeper hesitated. Then he obeyed orders by seating himself on an oil barrel lying on its side near the wall. The lantern he placed on the floor at his feet. Mrs. Bascom perched on one of the lower steps of the iron stairs.

"Now," she said, "we've got to talk. Seth Bascom--"

Seth started violently.

"What is it?" asked the lady. "Why did you jump like that? n.o.body comin', is there?"

"No. No . . . But I couldn't help jumpin' when you called me that name."

"That name? It's your name, isn't it? Oh," she smiled slightly; "I remember now. You've taken the name of Atkins since we saw each other last."

"I didn't take it; it belonged to me. You know my middle name. I just dropped the Bascom, that's all."

"I see. Just as you dropped--some other responsibilities. Why didn't you drop the whole christenin' and start fresh? Why did you hang on to 'Seth'?"

The lightkeeper looked guilty. Mrs. Bascom's smile broadened. "I know,"

she went on. "You didn't really like to drop it all. It was too much of a thing to do on your hook, and there wasn't anybody to tell you to do it, and so you couldn't quite be s.p.u.n.ky enough to--"

He interrupted her. "That wa'n't the reason," he said shortly.

"What was the reason?"

"You want to know, do you?"