"It will bring unhappiness and evil all around, but to no one so much as David Underwood himself," said Mrs. Dean, impressively, as she rose.
"Mrs. Dean," said Darrell, springing quickly to his feet, "you don't know the good this little interview has done me! I thank you for it and for your sympathy from the bottom of my heart."
"I wish I could give you something more practical than sympathy," said Mrs. Dean, with a smile, "and I will if I ever have the opportunity. And one thing in particular I want to say to you, Mr. Darrell: so long as you are in the West, whether your home is with us or not, I want you to feel that you have a mother in me, and should you ever be sick or in trouble and need a mother's care and love, no matter where you are, I will come to you as I would to my own son."
They had reached the door; Darrell, too deeply moved for speech and knowing her aversion to many words, bent over her and kissed her on the forehead.
"Thank you, mother; good-night!" he said.
She turned and looked at him with glistening eyes, as she replied, calmly,—
"Good-night, my son!"
The household was astir at an early hour the next morning. There were forced smiles and some desultory conversation at the breakfast-table, but it was a silent group which gathered outside in the early morning sunlight as Darrell was about taking his departure. He dreaded the parting, and, as he glanced at the faces of the waiting group, he determined to make it as brief as possible for their sakes as well as his own.
The heavy teams came slowly around from the stables, and behind them came Trix, daintily picking her steps along the driveway. With a word or two of instructions to the drivers Darrell sent the teams ahead; then, having adjusted saddle and bridle to his satisfaction, he turned to Mr. Underwood, who stood nearest.