At length De Courval could bear it no longer. He had no horse, and set off afoot to see his mother at Merion, saying nothing of his intention to Mrs. Swanwick. He learned that Wynne was still on the Ohio; ignorant of the extent of the calamity at home.
"Mother," he said, "again I must go into danger. Mr. Schmidt has gone to the city to care for the sick. For two weeks we have been without news of him. I can bear it no longer. I must go and see what has become of him."
"Well, and why, my son, should you risk your life for a man of whom you know nothing? When before you said it was a call of duty I bade you go. Now I will not."
"Mother, for a time we lived on that man's generous bounty."
"What!" she cried.
"Yes. It was made possible for me because I had the good fortune to save him from drowning. I did not tell you."
"No, of course not."
He told briefly the story of his rescue of the German.
"If he is well, I must know it. He is more than merely my friend. If he is ill, I must care for him. If he is dead—oh, dear mother, I must go!"