At the Time Appointed

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 assisted 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, God 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, impassive, 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,-"Wake up, my boy! We're getting home now."