Darrell's work as Mr. Underwood's secretary had been taken up by Kate,
who now seldom left her father's side. Between herself and Darrell there
was a comradeship similar to that which existed between them previous to
her engagement with Walcott, only more healthful and normal, being
unmixed with any regret for the past or dread of the future.
"You will remain at The Pines when the mines are sold, will you not?"
she inquired one day on his return from a trip to the camp.
"Not unless I am needed," he replied; "your father will need me but
little longer; then, unless you need me, I had better not remain."
She was silent for a moment. "No," she said, slowly, "I do not need you;
I have the assurance of your love; that is enough. I know you will be
loyal to me as I to you, wherever you may be."
"I will feel far less regret in going away now that I know you are free
from that man Walcott," Darrell continued; "but I wish you would please
answer me one question, Kathie: have you any fear of him?"
"Not for myself," she answered; "but I believe he is a man to be feared,
and," she added, significantly, "I do sometimes fear him for my friends;
perhaps for that reason it is, as you say, better that you should not
remain."
"Have no fear for me, Kathie. I understand. That man has been my enemy
from our first meeting; but have no fear; I am not afraid."
By the latter part of May negotiations for the sale of the mines had
been consummated, and Camp Bird passed into the possession of strangers.
It was with a feeling of exile and homelessness that Darrell, riding for
the last time down the canyon road, turned to bid the mountains
farewell, looking back with lingering glances into the frowning faces he
had learned to love.
"What do you propose doing now?" Mr. Britton asked of him as they were
walking together the evening after his return from camp.
"That is just what I have been asking myself," Darrell replied.
"Without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion?"
"Not as yet."
"What would you wish to do, were you given your choice?"
"What I wish to do, and what I intend to do if possible, is to devote
the next few months to the completion of my book. I can now afford to
devote my entire time to it, but I could not do the work justice unless
amid the right surroundings, and the question is, where to find them. I
do not care to remain here, and yet I shrink from going among
strangers."
"There is no need of that," Mr. Britton interposed, quickly; after a
pause he continued: "You once expressed a desire for a sort of hermit
life. I think by this time you have grown sufficiently out of yourself
that you could safely live alone with yourself for a while. How would
that suit you for three or four months?"