But the struggle was not entirely over.  She made one more effort.

“Oh, Crawford!” she cried a little later.  “Oh, Crawford, dear, this is all wrong.  It can’t be.  It mustn’t be.  Don’t you see it mustn’t?  We have forgotten Uncle Zoeth.  He doesn’t know whose son you are.  If he should learn, it would bring back the old story and the old trouble.  He isn’t well.  The shock might kill him.”

But Crawford merely smiled.

“He does know, Mary,” he said.  “Father wrote him.  I shall tell you the whole story just as Dad told it to me.  Heaven knows it was not a pleasant one for a son to hear, but I am glad I heard it.  The past was bad, but it is past.  You and I have the future for our own and I mean to make it a clean one and a happy one for us both, God willing.”

Shadrach came up the path to the tea-house, leading Isaiah by the arm.  Mr. Chase moved reluctantly, as if led to execution or, at the very least, to immediate trial for his life.

“Now then,” commanded Shadrach, “furl that umbrella and come along in here with me.  I want you to make Mary-’Gusta understand that you’ve told me the whole business, about your tellin’ her the Ed Farmer yarn and all.  After that you can clear out, because I want to talk to her myself.”

He opened the door and, still holding his captive by the arm, strode into the parlor.  There he stood stock still, staring.

Crawford held out his hand and the Captain found himself shaking it warmly.

“Captain Gould,” he said, “I know now what I did not know until two weeks ago, how greatly my father wronged you and your partners.  I know the whole miserable story.  But, in spite of it, I am here because I love Mary and I want to marry her.  She has told me that she loves me.  I don’t know how you feel about it, but I hope—­”

The Captain interrupted.  “Wait a minute!” he ordered.  “Heave to and come up into the wind a minute; let me get my bearin’s.  Young feller, if you’re goin’ to drop down out of the skies unexpected like this, you—­Tut! tut! tut!  Whew!” He waited a moment, then he said: 

“Mary-’Gusta, come here.”

He held out his arms.  She came to him and he held her close.

“Is it so?” he asked.  “Do you care for this young feller enough for that?  Do you, Mary-’Gusta?”

He put his finger beneath her chin and lifted her head to look down into her face.  The face was crimson.

“Do you, Mary-’Gusta?” he asked.

Mary looked up, wet-eyed but smiling.

“Yes, Uncle Shad,” she said, “I think I do.”

“And you want to cruise in his company all your life, eh?”

“Yes, Uncle Shad; but not unless you and Uncle Zoeth are willing.”

He bent and kissed her.