The affair brought back so vividly to Mr. Underwood and the family the
details of Harry's death that it cast a shadow over the Christmas
festivities, which seemed to deepen as the day wore on. Outside, too,
gathering clouds, harbingers of coming storm, added to the general
gloom.
It was with a sense of relief that Darrell set out at an early hour the
following morning for the camp. He realized as never before that the
place teemed with painful memories whose very sweetness tortured his
soul until he almost wished that the months since his coming to The
Pines might be wrapped in the same oblivion which veiled his life up to
that period. He was glad to escape from its depressing influence and to
return to the camp with its routine of work and study.
This second winter of Darrell's life at camp was far more normal and
healthful than the first. His love and sympathy for Kate had
unconsciously drawn him out of himself, making him less mindful of his
own sorrow and more susceptible to the sufferings of others. To the men
at the camp he was far different, interesting himself in their welfare
in numerous ways where before he had ignored them. The unusual severity
of the winter had caused some sickness among them, and it was nothing
uncommon for Darrell to go of an evening to the miners' quarters with
medicines, newspapers, and magazines for the sick and convalescent.
He was returning from one of these expeditions late one evening about
ten days after Christmas, accompanied by the collie. It had been snowing
lightly and steadily all day and the snow was still falling. Darrell was
whistling softly to himself, and Duke, who showed a marvellous
adaptation to Darrell's varying moods, catching the cue for his own
conduct, began to plunge into the freshly fallen snow, wheeling and
darting swiftly towards Darrell as though challenging him to a
wrestling-match. Darrell gratified his evident wish and they tumbled
promiscuously in the snow, emerging at length from a big drift near the
office, their coats white, Duke barking with delight, and Darrell
laughing like a school-boy.
Shaking themselves, they entered the office, but no sooner had they
stepped within than the collie bounded to the door of the next room
where he began a vigorous sniffing and scratching, accompanied by a
series of short barks. As Darrell, somewhat puzzled by his actions,
opened the door, he saw a figure seated by the fire, which rose and
turned quickly, revealing to his astonished gaze the tall form and
strong, sweet face of John Britton.
For a moment the two men stood with clasped hands, looking into each
other's eyes with a satisfaction too deep for words.
After an affectionate scrutiny of his young friend Mr. Britton resumed
his seat, remarking,-"You are looking well--better than I have ever seen you; and I was glad
to hear that laughter outside; it had the right ring to it."