Slowly Darrell went over the field and across the little hollow where Gabriel had taken him off his horse. Then he followed the path he had galloped with the reata around his body, and came to the road where he had met the Don and tried to strike him. This was the first time Darrell had been over this ground since that memorable day which was now recalled to his mind so painfully. He wondered how he could have been so blind, such a fool, not to take the right view of Clarence's actions. Ah! and where was Clarence now, that beloved first-born boy, of whom he was so proud? In this sad meditation, with head bowed down most dejectedly, Darrell followed the path until he came to a fence. He looked up and saw this was the south side of Mr. Mechlin's garden. He turned around the southeast corner and followed along the fence, remembering that going by that path he would shorten the distance to Mathews' house. For a few rods Darrell walked in the path, but not wishing to be seen by the Mechlins, he left the path and walked close to the fence, hidden by a row of olive trees. Presently he heard a man's voice, talking and walking up and down the piazza. On the next turn he saw it was George Mechlin carrying his baby boy in his arms, kissing him at every few words.
Darrell was pleased to see the young man kissing his child so lovingly. It reminded him of his young days when he held his own first boy like that. Then he felt a pang shoot through his heart as he thought that if it had not been for his wicked folly, Clarence in another year might have held his own child, too, in his arms, as George was now holding his, and that baby would have been his own grandchild! Darrell trembled with the strength of his keen remorse—a remorse which now constantly visited him, invading his spirit with relentless fury, like a pitiless foe that gave no quarter. He leaned against the fence for support and stood still, wishing to watch George caressing his baby. Meantime, George continued his walking, his talking and caressing, which Darrell could hear was occasionally reciprocated by a sweet little cooing from the baby. Elvira came out on the piazza now, and he heard her say:
“Indeed, George, that baby ought to be in bed now. See, it is after seven, and he is still awake. You keep him awake.”
Mr. Mechlin also came out and took the baby, saying he, too, must have a kiss. Then Mrs. Mechlin followed, and Caroline, and all caressed the baby, showing how dearly they loved the little thing, who took all the petting in good part, perfectly satisfied.
At last Elvira carried him off to bed, and Darrell saw George and Mr. Mechlin go into the library and sit by the center-table to read. He then, with down-cast eyes, continued his walk towards Mathews' house.
He found Miss Mathews alone, with eyes that plainly showed sad traces of tears, she was sitting by the lamp darning her brother's stockings, which, like those of Darrell himself, had always holes at the heels, for the tread of both was alike, of that positive character which revealed an indomitable spirit, and it soon wore out the heels of their socks.
After the customary inquiries for the health of the family, and the usual remarks about the crops being good, Miss Mathews went on to say that she could no longer bear the state of her mind, and thought it was her duty to tell Mr. Darrell her fears, and prevent mischief that might occur, if her brother was not spoken to by somebody.
“What mischief do you fear?” Darrell asked.
“Well, you see—I can scarcely explain—for, after all, it might be all talk of William, when he has drank that horrible whisky.”
“What does he say?”