“Yes, he was,” said the colonel. “I rather hope he comes back. I haven’t enjoyed any one so much since the days of Weber and Fields.”
It was after eight o’clock when the Evanses arrived. Mrs. Evans was genuinely affected at seeing Custer again, for she was as fond of him as if he had been her own son. In Guy, Custer discovered a great change. The boy that he had left had become suddenly a man, quiet and reserved, with a shadow of sadness in his expression. His lesson had been a hard one, Custer knew, and the price that he had had to pay for it had left its indelible mark upon his sensitive character.
Guy’s happiness at having Custer back again was overshadowed to some extent by the shame that he must always feel when he looked into the face of the man who had shouldered his guilt and taken the punishment which should have been his. The true purpose of Pennington’s sacrifice could never alter young Evans’s realization of the fact that the part he had been forced to take had been that of a coward, a traitor, and a cad.
The first greetings over, Mrs. Evans asked Custer if he had seen Grace before he left Los Angeles.
“I saw her,” he said, “and she is not at all well. I think Guy should go up there immediately, and try to bring her back. I meant to speak to him about it this evening.”
“She is not seriously ill?” exclaimed Mrs. Evans.
“I cannot say,” replied Custer. “I doubt if she is seriously ill in a physical sense, but she is not well. I could see that. She has changed a great deal. I think you should lose no time, Guy,” he added, turning to Grace’s brother, “in going to Los Angeles and getting her. She has been gone almost a year. It is time she knew whether her dreams are to come true or not. From what I saw of her, I doubt if they have materialized.”
“I will go to-morrow,” said young Evans.