George said to Clarence: “Prepare yourself to be cross-questioned by aunt, for she has been very anxious about you.”
Clarence replied he was willing to be questioned, and began his narrative by saying how he came to miss all the letters written to him. He said:
“When I was delirious and at the point of death in a cabin at the mines, all the letters that came addressed to me the doctor put in a paper bag, and when he left he considered me still too weak to read letters that might cause me excitement, so he took the paper bag and placed it behind a camp looking-glass which hung over a little table beside my bed. I was so impressed with the conviction that I might not be considered fit to marry Miss Mercedes, that when, upon asking if any letters had come for me, and Fred Haverly, thinking that I meant other letters besides those handed to the doctor, answered in the negative. I did not explain that I had not received any at all. I accepted patiently what I considered a natural result of my father's conduct, and said nothing. I went to Mexico, and there a fatality followed my letters again. I missed them twice—once through the mistake of a clerk at my bankers, the second time by a mistake of the Secretary of the Legation, who misunderstood Hubert's request about returning the letters to him. From Mexico I went to South America, crossed to Brazil, and went to England. From England I went to the Mediterranean, and since then I have been on the go, like the restless spirit that I was, believing myself a miserable outcast. It was almost accidentally that I came to Paris. I got a letter from Hubert, and in a postscript he said that he hoped I got my letters at last, for he had sent them with a remittance to my bankers, requesting that my letters should be kept until I called for them. I was far up the Nile when I received his letter, but next morning I started for Paris with a beating heart, I can assure you. Twenty-six letters I found, and I am more grieved than I can express to you to think that I did not get them before.”
Clarence arose and paced the floor in great agitation, and his friends were much moved also, for they knew he was thinking that never again, in this world, would he see his noble friend, Don Mariano.
On the following morning the Mechlins, accompanied by Clarence left Paris. Before leaving, Clarence telegraphed to Mercedes:
“I have just received your letters written in '73. I leave for New York to-morrow with the Mechlins, thence for California.
—— Clarence Darrell.”
Everett, who had been to town, religiously, to see whether there might be a letter from Clarence, or news about him, brought Mercedes the cablegram.
Poor Mercedes, she read the few words many times over before she could realize that they were from Clarence. When she did so, she was seized with a violent trembling, and then completely overcome by emotion. Ah! yes she would see him again, but where was now her darling papa, who was so fond of Clarence?
Mercedes sent the dispatch for Mrs. Darrell to see, and when Everett brought it back, Carlota made a copy of it to send to Lizzie in a letter next day. The Darrells were truly overjoyed, thrown into a perfect storm of pleasure. The old man said not a word. He went to his lonely room, locked the door, and there, as usual since he lived the life of a half-divorced man, battled with his spirit. This time, however, he allowed tears to flow as he blessed his absent boy, and thanked God that he was coming.
“If I had a decent pair of legs to speak of,” said Tano to Everett, “I would dance for sheer joy, but having no legs, I can only use my tongue and repeat how glad I am.”