fragrance of her seemed left behind and for a moment he stood staring into the inner twilight that had enveloped her and straining his ears to hear the last faint sounds of her steps as she retired. He was not certain but that he should have been amused, although delighted by her wholly foolish and wholly absurd continuance of a feud that was in itself wholly foolish and wholly absurd; but all his practical, sober sense and judgment were swept aside by a tenderness that was new; that had come to him after he had believed such tenderness indurated and dead.
“By Heaven!” he muttered. “This is a silly thing. But if she wants old Lemuel's golden box, she shall have it, if I have to steal it myself!”
CHAPTER V.
THE two gayly painted guard posts with their quaint, rounded tops that stood in the great canal in front of Lemuel Harnway's fine old palace were reflected in the still waters of the late afternoon and the shadows seemed as still as the posts themselves; as still as the image of the ornate façade of the palace itself. High and sheer the venerable and historic old building stood as if its front wall sturdily bade defiance to the canal as it had done for centuries. It seemed to suggest that the Grand Canal, and not itself, was the interloper, and that it stood there by right of first domain. Then the shadows wavered, distorted, little ripples began to advance until the entire reflection was aquiver, and a gondola, with the ease of a gliding swan, slipped forward, turned its prow deftly into the waterway between the guideposts and the wide marble steps of the front entrance and came to a halt.
Captain Ware winked in a friendly way at his old retainer, Tomaso, told him to wait in the shade, and staring at the marble tracery of the old entryway with approving eyes, advanced upward.
“The old fellow did himself well,” he thought, and then looked up at the open door as a liveried footman appeared therein and bowed.
“Is the Signor Harnway at home?” Jimmy asked.
“He is, signor—but have you an appointment?” the man asked, eying the visitor speculatively as if to gauge his importance.
“No, but I think this will prove sufficient,” the captain said as he produced and handed the man a card.
His manner seemed to express assurance and confidence, hence the footman became obsequious, bowed more deeply and with a gesture ushered the visitor into a waiting salon near the grand entrance, and disappeared. It was but a minute later when the curtains were swept aside and Lemuel Harnway, gaunt, tall, white headed, white eyebrowed, and white mustached entered with extended hands and. said, “Lord bless my soul! If it isn't Milly's son Jim, I'm a doggoned old liar!”
“Yes, Uncle Lem, it is I all right,” the captain admitted as he stepped forward to shake the friendly extended hands. “I didn't know whether you would remember me or not, and I didn't know but that you might be too busy to see me.”
“I'm never too busy to see my sister's only son, am I? You young scalawag. How dare you make any talk of that kind? Well, have you given up that fool idea of skippering a tramp steamer yet, or haven't you?”
“No, Uncle Lem, I haven't. The Adventure is lying out there now—in the Giudecco.”
“Adventure, eh? What a damned silly name for a ship. Reckon you named her that because you're romantic. Humph! Romance! Tommyrot! Thank the Lord Almighty, you must have got that from your father's side of the house. The Harnways had too much sense to be romantic. Now, your mother”
“It was she who chose that name for my ship, Uncle Lem. I bought her the year before she died.”
The harsh old face suddenly became grave and thoughtful and he looked momentarily aged and tired.
“Perhaps Milly did have some romance in her, after all,” he admitted. “Otherwise she'd hardly have run away with Tom Ware and lived all the rest of her life up there among the Yankees on that barren, cold, rocky place called Cape Cod. Um-m-h! Anyhow you must have got this nonsensical love of the sea from him. I'll say that much to his discredit. I always had to respect Tom, but we never could get along together!”
“I remember, Uncle Lem, that you and he were never alone for fifteen minutes at a time without a hot discussion about some-
