"No, sir-ee! that wan't the worst of it. You and me might have thought losin' all our money was the worst that could be, but Marcellus and Shadrach didn't think so. Marcellus was pretty nigh stove in himself--there was nothin' on earth he loved the way he loved that sister of his--but when he and Cap'n Shad thought of poor Zoeth they couldn't think of much else. Shadrach had liked her and Marcellus had loved her, but Zoeth had fairly bowed down and worshiped the ground she trod on. Anything she wanted, no matter what, she could have if 'twas in Zoeth's power to get it for her.
He'd humored her and spiled her as if she was a child and all he asked for doin' it was that she'd pat him on the head once in a while, same as you would a dog. And now she'd gone--run off with that thief! Why--"
Mary interrupted again. "Wait! Wait, Isaiah," she cried. "I tell you I don't understand. You say--you say Captain Hall's sister had gone with Mr. Farmer?"
"Sartin! she run off with him and nobody's laid eyes on either of 'em since. That was why--"
"Stop! stop! What I don't understand is why Uncle Zoeth was so stricken by the news. Why had HE humored and spoiled her? Was he in love with her?"
Isaiah stared at her in blank astonishment.
"In love with her!" he repeated. "Course he was! Why wouldn't he be? Wan't she his wife?"
There was no doubt about the sensation now. The color slowly faded from Mary's cheeks.
"His WIFE?" she repeated slowly.
"Sartin! They'd been married 'most five year. Didn't I tell you?
She was a good deal younger'n he was, but--"
"Wait! What--what was her name?"
"Eh? Didn't I tell you that neither? That's funny. Her name was Patience--Patience Hall."
The last doubt was gone. Clear and distinct to Mary's mind came a sentence of Crawford's: "I saw her name first on the gravestone and it made an impression on me because it was so quaint and old-fashioned. 'Patience, wife of Edwin Smith.'"
She heard very little of Isaiah's story thereafter. Scattered sentences reached her ears. Isaiah was telling how, because of Zoeth's pleading and the latter's desire to avoid all the public scandal possible, no attempt was made to trace the fugitives.
"They went West somewheres," said Isaiah. "Anyhow 'twas supposed they did 'cause they was seen together on the Chicago train by an Orham man that knew Farmer. Anybody but Marcellus and your uncles, Mary-'Gusta, would have sot the sheriff on their track and hauled 'em back here and made that Farmer swab give up what he stole. I don't imagine he had such a terrible lot with him, I cal'late the heft of it had gone in stock speculatin', but he must have had somethin' and they could have got a-holt of that. But no, Zoeth he says, 'Don't follow 'em! For her sake and mine--don't make the shame more public than 'tis.' You see, Zoeth was the same then as he is now; you'd have thought HE was to blame to hear him talk. He never said a word against her then nor since. A mighty good man, your Uncle Zoeth Hamilton is, Mary-'Gusta. Saint on earth, I call him."
He went on to tell how Marcellus and Shadrach had fought to keep the firm on its feet, how for a time it struggled on against the load of debt left it by their former partner, only to go down at last.
"Marcellus went down with it, as you might say," continued Isaiah.
"Between losin' his sister and losin' his business he never was the same man afterwards, though he did make consider'ble money in other ways. Him and Cap'n Shadrach both went back to seafarin' again and after a spell I went with 'em. Poor Zoeth, when he got on his feet, which took a long spell, he started a little store that by and by, when Cap'n Shad joined in with him, was Hamilton and Company, same as now. And when Shadrach come I come too, as cook and steward, you understand. But from that day to this there's been two names never mentioned in this house, one's Patience Hall's and t'other's Ed Farmer's. You can see now why, when I thought that tintype was his, I was so took aback. You see, don't you, Mary-'Gusta? Why! Where you goin'?"
Mary had risen from her chair, taken up the lamp, and was on her way to the door.
"I'm going to my room," she said. "Good night, Isaiah."
"What are you goin' now for? I could tell you a lot more partic'lars if you wanted to hear 'em. Now I've told so much I might as well tell the rest. If I'm goin' to be hove overboard for tellin' I might as well make a big splash as a little one. If you got any questions to ask, heave ahead and ask 'em. Fire away, I don't care," he added, recklessly.
But Mary shook her head. She did not even turn to look at him.
"Perhaps I may ask them some other time," she said. "Not now.
Thank you for telling me so much. Good night."
