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."