Still, she didn't even look at it, but instead kept looking at the scarlet figure in the gallery, then, turning to the minister, rasped out,—
"For pity's sake, get this thing over!"
But the Captain was taking her into his arms.
"Sally, it isn't going on. I guess you didn't understand. There's a message from Ben"
"Ben?" it was a sigh of despair, then a look almost of hope broke over her face. "A message?"
"Yes, this man—God bless him—picked it up on the shore—it's true—let me read it to you."
"'Shipwrecked on island—about latitude eighteen north—longitude sixty-two west—alive—well—' hear that, girl, he's alive and well—'Notify Captain Harvey Brent—and Miss Sally Fell.' See, it's sent to you—there's the signature."
But it was the voice of the parrot that really called her back. With her astounding flare for the ironic and appropriate, she was shrieking at the bridegroom,
"Buss the lass, matey, buss the lass."
Not heeding this rudeness, Sally was looking wildly into her godfather's face.
"Oh, don't fool me now! I could have stood it before, but I can't go through with it again."
"We're not fooling you, Sally."
Striving hard for comprehension, she looked down at the bit of bark. Yes, there were the letters, looming large, even through the mist she could see them—his name at the bottom. So at last she accepted the release.
