CHAPTER XI.—AN UNEXPECTED MEETING OF OLD FRIENDS
HAD seen Pearl often in hurried visits to Rushwater, but not since the Erie war began. For three years he had been hard at work in every department of the growing shop as superintendent. Its voices had turned from anger to affection; its people loved this man, for the years had proved him. He was like a father to them. I can think of scores of men and women who followed his counsel in those days of their youth and poverty.
I found him, soon after the events I have been describing, ill in his room at Rushwater. His eyes had been failing; one of his old wounds, which had cut deep into his head, was giving him sore trouble and affecting his sight. I was grieved to learn that he could scarcely see me. A young man from the shop was taking care of him.
I had been thinking of my gains, and they were large, for McCarthy had been kind and generous, and I was to have one of the highest offices in the gift of the State. But now, as I saw the failing of my old friend, I began to think of my losses, and was sorry—sorry that I had missed so much of the companionship and counsel of one of the greatest men I ever knew.
“I've missed you, Jake, I've missed you,” he said, with trembling lips, as he held my hand in his.
I would have given it all then—all the money and the honor which had been mine—for that I had lost, and I have never changed my mind about it.
“My friend and fellow-citizen,” said he, cheerfully, after a moment, “the Committee on Love and Marriage will now report. Has your heart changed, old boy? Do you still think of Jo?”