Part 3 (1/2)

”He did; he stood by him like a brother,” Parkinson's voice replied.

”And he is sick, you say? Well, he won't want for anything within my power to do for him, that's all!”

Parkinson stopped at Darrell's side. ”Mr. Darrell,” he said, ”this is Mr. Underwood, Whitcomb's uncle, you know; Mr. Underwood, Mr. Darrell.”

Darrell rose a little unsteadily; the two men grasped hands and for an instant neither spoke. Darrell saw before him a tall, powerfully built man, approaching fifty, whose somewhat bronzed face, shrewd, stern, and unreadable, was lighted by a pair of blue eyes which once had resembled Whitcomb's. With a swift, penetrating glance the elder man looked searchingly into the face of the younger.

”True as steel, with a heart of gold!” was his mental comment; then he spoke abruptly, and his voice sounded brusque though his face was working with emotion.

”Mr. Darrell, my carriage is waiting for you outside. You will go home with me, unless,” he added, inquiringly, ”you are expecting to meet friends or acquaintances?”

”No, Mr. Underwood,” Darrell replied, ”I am a stranger here, but, much as I appreciate your kindness, I could not think of intruding upon your home at such a time as this.”

”Porter,” said Mr. Underwood, with the air of one accustomed to command, ”take this gentleman's luggage outside, and tell them out there that it is to go to 'The Pines;' my men are there and they will look after it;”

then, turning to Darrell, he continued, still more brusquely:

”This train pulls out in three minutes, so you had better prepare to follow your luggage. You don't stop in Ophir outside of my house, and I don't think you'll travel much farther for a while. You look as though you needed a bed and good nursing more than anything else just now.”

”I have given him a prescription, sir,” said the physician, ”that I think will set him right if he gets needed rest and sleep.”

”Humph!” responded Mr. Underwood, gruffly; ”he'll get whatever he needs, you can depend on that. You gentlemen a.s.sist him out of the car; I'll go and despatch a messenger to the house to have everything in readiness for him there.”

At the foot of the car steps Darrell parted from the physician and, leaning on Parkinson's arm, slowly made his way through the crowd to the carriage, where Mr. Underwood awaited him. Parkinson having taken leave, Mr. Underwood a.s.sisted the young man into the carriage. A spasm of pain crossed Darrell's face as he saw, just ahead of them, waiting to precede them on the homeward journey, a light wagon containing a stretcher covered with a heavy black cloth, a line of stalwart young fellows drawn up on either side, and he recalled Whitcomb's parting words on the previous night,--”When we reach Ophir to-morrow, you'll go directly home with me.”

This was observed by Mr. Underwood, who remarked a moment later as he seated himself beside Darrell and they started homeward,--

”This is a sad time to introduce you to our home and household, Mr.

Darrell, but you will find your welcome none the less genuine on that account.”

”Mr. Underwood,” said the young man, in a troubled voice, ”this seems to me the most unwarrantable intrusion on my part to accept your hospitality at such a time----”

Before he could say more, Mr. Underwood placed a firm, heavy hand on his knee.

”You stood by my poor boy, Harry, to the last, and that is enough to insure you a welcome from me and mine. I'm only doing what Harry himself would do if he were here.”

”As to what I did for your nephew, G.o.d knows it was little enough I could do,” Darrell answered, bitterly. ”I was powerless to defend him against the fatal blow, and after that there was no help for him.”

”Did you see him killed?”

”Yes.”

”Tell me all, everything, just as it occurred.”

Mr. Underwood little knew the effort it cost Darrell in his condition to go over the details of the terrible scene, but he forced himself to give a clear, succinct, calm statement of all that took place. The elder man sat looking straight before him, immovable, impa.s.sive, like one who heard not, yet in reality missing nothing that was said. Not until Darrell repeated Whitcomb's dying words was there any movement on his part; then he turned his head so that his face was hidden and remained motionless and silent as before. At last he inquired,--

”Did he leave no message for me?”

”He mentioned only your daughter, Mr. Underwood; he evidently had some message for her which he was unable to give.”

A long silence followed. Darrell, utterly exhausted, sank back into a corner of the carriage. The slight movement roused Mr. Underwood; he looked towards Darrell, whose eyes were closed, and was shocked at his deathly pallor. He said nothing, however, for Darrell was again sinking into a heavy stupor, but watched him with growing concern, making no attempt to rouse him until the carriage left the street and began ascending a long gravelled driveway; then putting his hand on Darrell's shoulder, he said, quite loudly,--