“‘First time anybody passes this way goin’ down ito Fishburn Court,’ he says, ’I wish you’d send this along to Uncle Dan’l. It’s his by rights, and he’d ought a had it long ago.’
“An’ them was his last words to me, except as he pulled the door to after him he called ‘Good-bye Pop, if I don’t see you agin.’
“I don’t know when he’d done such a thing before as to say good-bye when he went out, and I’ve often wondered over it sence, could he ’a had any warnin’ that something was goin’ to happen to him?”
Georgina gazed at the picture in the newspaper long and curiously. It had been copied from a faded tin-type, but even making allowances for that Emmett didn’t look as she imagined a hero should, nor did it seem possible it could be the man Belle had talked about. She wished she hadn’t seen it. It dimmed the glamor of romance which seemed to surround him like a halo. Hearing about him in the magical moonlight she had pictured him as looking as Sir Galahad. But if _this_ was what he really looked like--Again she glanced wonderingly at Belle. How could she care so hard for ten long years for just an ordinary man like that?
When it was time to go home Belle suggested that they walk around by Fishburn Court. It would be out of their way, but she had heard that Aunt Elspeth wasn’t as well as usual.
“Emmett always called her Aunt,” she explained to Georgina as they walked along, “so I got into the way of doing it, too. He was so fond of Dan’s mother. She was so good to him after his own went that I feel I want to be nice to her whenever I can, for his sake.”
“You know,” she continued, “Aunt Elspeth never would give up but that Dan was innocent, and since her memory’s been failing her this last year, she talks all the time about his coming home; just lies there in bed half her time and babbles about him. It almost kills Uncle Dan’l to hear her, because, of course, he knows the truth of the matter, that Dan _was_ guilty. He as good as confessed it before he ran away, and the running away itself told the story.”
When they reached Fishburn Court they could see two people sitting in front of the cottage. Uncle Darcy was in an armchair on the grass with one of the cats in his lap, and Richard sat on one seat of the red, wooden swing with Captain Kidd on the opposite site one. Richard had a rifle across his knees, the one Georgina had suggested borrowing. He passed his hand caressingly along its stock now and then, and at intervals raised it to sight along the barrel. It was so heavy he could not keep it from wobbling when he raised it to take aim in various directions.
At the click of the gate-latch the old man tumbled Yellownose out of his lap and rose stiffly to welcome his guests.
“Come right in,” he said cordially. “Mother’ll be glad to see you, Belle. She’s been sort of low in her mind lately, and needs cheering up.”