Father and son clasped hands above the newly made grave.
"I promise you, father," Darrell replied; "but you did not need to ask the pledge."
When John Britton left Ellisburg a few days later a crowd of friends were gathered at the little depot to extend their sympathy and bid him farewell. A few were old associates of his own, some were his wife's friends, and some Darrell's. To those who had known him in the past he was greatly changed, and none of them quite understood his quaint philosophizings, his broad views, or his seeming isolation from their work-a-day, business world in which he had formerly taken so active a part. They knew naught of his years of solitary life or of how lives spent in years of contemplation and reflection, of retrospection and introspection, become gradually lifted out of the ordinary channels of
thought and out of touch with the more practical life of the world. But they had had abundant evidence of his love and devotion to his wife, and of his kindness and liberality towards many of their own number, and for these they loved him.
There was not one, however, who mourned his departure so deeply as Experience Jewett, though she gave little expression to her sorrow. She had hoped that after her sister's death his home would still be with them. This, not from any weak sentimentality or any thought that he would ever be aught than as a brother to her, but because his very presence in the home was refreshing, helpful, comforting, and because it was a joy to be near him, to hear him talk, and to minister to his comfort. But he was going from them, as she well knew, never to return, and beneath the brave, smiling face she carried a sore and aching heart.
Thus John Britton bade the East farewell and turned his face towards the great West, mindful only of the grave under the elms, to which the river murmured night and day, and with no thought of return until he, too, should come to share that peaceful resting place.
Spring had come again and Walcott's probationary year with Mr. Underwood had nearly expired. For a while he had maintained his old suavity of manner and business had been conducted satisfactorily, but as months passed and Kate Underwood was unapproachable as ever and the prospect of reconciliation between them seemed more remote, he grew sullen and morose, and Mr. Underwood began to detect signs of mismanagement. Determined to wait until he had abundance of evidence with which to confront him, however, he said nothing, but continued to watch him with unceasing vigilance.