Mr. Britton's words had, as he intended they should, drawn Darrell's
thoughts from himself. Under his graphic description, accompanied by the
powerful magnetism of his voice and presence, Darrell seemed to see the
Oriental festival which he had depicted and to feel a soothing influence
from the very simplicity and beauty of the imaginary scene.
"Think of the rest, the relaxation, in a week of such a life!" continued
Mr. Britton. "Re-creation, in the true sense of the word. The simplest
joys are the sweetest, but our lives have grown too complex for us to
appreciate them. Our amusements and recreations, as we call them, are
often more wearing and exhausting than our labors."
For nearly an hour Mr. Britton led the conversation on general subjects,
carefully avoiding every personal allusion; Darrell following,
interested, animated, wondering more and more at the man beside him,
until the latter tactfully led him to speak--calmly and dispassionately,
as he could not have spoken an hour before--of himself. Almost before he
was aware, Darrell had told all: of his vain gropings in the darkness
for some clue to the past; of the helpless feeling akin to despair which
sometimes took possession of him when he attempted to face the situation
continuously confronting him.
During his recital Mr. Britton had thrown his arm about Darrell's
shoulder, and when he paused quite a silence followed.
"Did it ever occur to you," Mr. Britton said at length, speaking very
slowly, "that there are hundreds--yes, thousands--who would be only too
glad to exchange places with you to-day?"
"No," Darrell replied, too greatly astonished to say more.
"But there are legions of poor souls, haunted by crime, or crushed
beneath the weight of sorrow, whose one prayer would be, if such a thing
were possible, that their past might be blotted out; that they might be
free to begin life anew, with no memories dogging their steps like
spectres, threatening at every turn to work their undoing."
For a moment Darrell regarded his friend with a fixed, inquiring gaze,
which gradually changed to a look of comprehension.
"I see," he said at length, "I have got to begin life anew; but you
consider that there are others who have to make the start under
conditions worse than mine."
"Far worse," said Mr. Britton. "Don't think for a moment that I fail to
realize in how many ways you are handicapped or to appreciate the
obstacles against which you will have to contend, but this I do say: the
future is in your own hands--as much as it is in the hands of any
mortal--to make the most of and the best of that you can, and with the
negative advantage, at least, that you are untrammelled by a past that
can hold you back or drag you down."