It
was Le Noir. My poor wife lived under her girlhood's name of Marah
Rocke." Old Hurricane made a gulp, and his voice broke down.
Cap understood all now, as well as if she had known it as long as
Old Hurricane had. She comprehended his extreme agitation upon a
certain evening, years ago, when Herbert Greyson had mentioned Marah
Rocke's name, and his later and more lasting disturbance upon
accidentally meeting Marah Rocke at the Orphans' Court.
This revelation filled her with strange and contradictory emotions.
She was glad; she was angry with him; she was sorry for him; she was
divided between divers impulses to hug and kiss him, to cry over
him, and to seize him and give him a good shaking! And between them
she did nothing at all.
Old Hurricane was again the first to speak,
"What was that you wished to say to me, Cap, when I ran ray from you
this morning?"
"Why, uncle, that Herbert wants to follow your example, and--and--
and--" Cap blushed and broke down.
"I thought as much. Getting married at his age! A boy of twenty-
five!" said the veteran in contempt.
"Taking a wife at your age, uncle, an infant of sixty-six!"
"Bother, Cap! Let me see that fellow's letter to you."
Cap handed it to him and the old man read it.
"If I were to object, you'd get married all the same! Demmy! you're
both of age.
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