Without replying Darrell unconsciously drew nearer to his friend, and a brief silence followed, broken by Mr. Britton, who inquired, in a lighter tone,--
"What is the other reason for your constant application to your work?
You said there were two."
Darrell bowed his head upon his hands as he answered in a low, despairing tone,--
"To stop thinking, thinking, thinking; it will drive me mad!"
"I have been there, my boy; I know," Mr. Britton responded; then, after a pause, he continued:
"Something in the tenor of your last letter made me anxious to come to you. I thought I detected something of the old restlessness. Has the coming of spring, quickening the life forces all around you, stirred the life currents in your own veins till your spirit is again tugging at its fetters in its struggles for release?"
With a startled movement Darrell raised his head, meeting the clear eyes fixed upon him.
"How could you know?" he demanded.
"Because, as Emerson says, "the heart in thee is the heart of all."
There are few hearts whose pulses are not stirred by the magic influence of the springtide, and under its potent spell I knew you would feel your present limitations even more keenly than ever before."
"Thank G.o.d, you understand!" Darrell exclaimed; then continued, pa.s.sionately: "The last three weeks have been torture to me if I but allowed myself one moment"s thought. Wherever I look I see life--life, perfect and complete in all its myriad forms--the life that is denied to me! This is not living,--this existence of mine,--with brain shackled, fettered, in many ways helpless as a child, knowing less than a child, and not even mercifully wrapped in oblivion, but compelled to feel the constant goading and galling of the fetters, to be reminded of them at every turn! My G.o.d! if it were not for constant work and study I would go mad!"
In the silence which followed Darrell"s mind reverted to that autumn day on which he had first met John Britton and confided to him his trouble; and now, as then, he was soothed and strengthened by the presence beside him, by the magnetism of that touch, although no word was spoken.
As he reviewed their friendship of the past months he became conscious for the first time of its one-sidedness. He had often unburdened himself to his friend, confiding to him his griefs, and receiving in turn sympathy and counsel; but of the great, unknown sorrow that had wrought such havoc in his own life, what word had John Britton ever spoken? As Darrell recalled the bearing of his friend through all their acquaintance and his silence regarding his own sufferings, his eyes grew dim. The man at his side seemed, in the light of that revelation, stronger, grander, n.o.bler than ever before; not unlike to the giant peaks whose h.o.a.ry heads then loomed darkly against the starlit sky, calm, silent, majestic, giving no token of the throes of agony which, ages agone, had rent them asunder except in the mystic symbols graven on their furrowed brows. In that light his own complaints seemed puerile.
At that moment Darrell was conscious of a new fort.i.tude born within his soul; a new purpose, henceforth to dominate his life.
A heavy sigh from Mr. Britton broke the silence. "I know the fetters are galling," he said, "but have patience and hope, for, at the time appointed, the shackles will be loosened, the fetters broken."
Darrell faced his companion, a new light in his eyes but recently so dark with despair, as he asked, earnestly and tenderly,--
"Dearest and best of friends, is there no time appointed for the lifting of the burden borne so n.o.bly and uncomplainingly, "lo, these many years?""
With a grave, sweet smile the elder man shook his head, and, rising, began pacing up and down the room. "There are some burdens, my son, that time cannot lift; they can only be laid down at the gates of eternity."
With a strange, choking sensation in his throat Darrell rose, and, going to the window, stood looking out at the dim outlines of the neighboring peaks. Their vast solitude no longer oppressed him as at the first; it calmed and soothed him in his restless moods, and to-night those grim monarchs dwelling in silent fellowship seemed to him the embodiment of peace and rest.
After a time Mr. Britton paused beside him, and, throwing his arm about his shoulders, asked,--
"What are your thoughts, my son?"
"Only a whim, a fancy that has taken possession of me the last few days, since my wanderings among the mountains," he answered, lightly; "a longing to bury myself in some sort of a retreat on one of these old peaks and devote myself to study."
"And live a hermit"s life?" Mr. Britton queried, with a peculiar smile.
"For a while, yes," Darrell replied, more seriously; "until I have learned to fight these battles out by myself, and to conquer myself."
"There are battles," said the other, speaking thoughtfully, "which are waged best in solitude, but self is conquered only by a.s.sociation with one"s fellows. Solitude breeds selfishness."
Mr. Britton had resumed his pacing up and down, but a few moments later, as he approached Darrell, the latter turned, suddenly confronting him.
"My dear friend," he said, "you have been everything to me; you have done everything for me; I ask you to do one thing more,--forgive and answer this question: How have you conquered?"
The look of pain that crossed his companion"s face filled Darrell with regret for what he had said, but before he could speak again Mr. Britton replied gently, with his old smile,--
"I doubt whether I have yet wholly conquered; but whatever victory is mine, I have won, not in solitude and seclusion, but in a.s.sociation with the sorrowing, the suffering, the sinning, and in sharing their burdens I found rest from my own."
He paused a moment, then continued, his glowing eyes holding Darrell as though under a spell:
"I know not why, but since our first meeting you have given me a new interest, a new joy in life. I have been drawn to you and I have loved you as I thought never again to love any human being, and some day I will tell you what I have told no other human being,--the story of my life."
On Sat.u.r.day Mr. Britton and Darrell returned to The Pines. The increasing intimacy between them was evident even there. For the last day or so Mr. Britton had fallen into the habit of addressing Darrell by his Christian name, much to the latter"s delight. For this Mrs. Dean laughingly called him to account, compelling Mr. Britton to come to his own defence.
""John,"" he exclaimed; "of course I"ll call him "John." It seems wonderfully pleasant to me. I"ve always wanted a namesake, and I can consider him one."
"A namesake!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs. Dean, smiling broadly; "I wonder if there"s a poor family or one that"s seen trouble of any kind anywhere around here that hasn"t a "John Britton" among its children! I should think you had namesakes enough now!"
"One might possibly like to have one of his own selection," he replied, dryly.
As Darrell took leave of Mr. Britton the following Monday morning the latter said,--
"By the way, John, whenever you are ready to enter upon that hermit life let me know; I"ll provide the hermitage."
"Are you joking?" Darrell queried, unable to catch his meaning.
"Never more serious in my life," he replied, with such unusual gravity that Darrell forbore to question further.
_Chapter XI_
IMPENDING TROUBLE
The five or six weeks following Mr. Britton"s visit pa.s.sed so swiftly that Darrell was scarcely conscious of their flight. His work at the mill, which had been increased by valuable strikes recently made in the mines, in addition to considerable outside work in the way of attests and a.s.says, had left him little time for study or experiment. For nearly three weeks he had not left the mining camp, the last two Sat.u.r.days having found him too weary with the preceding week"s work to undertake the long ride to Ophir.
During this time Mr. Underwood had been a frequent visitor at the camp, led not only by his interest in the mining developments, but also by his curiosity regarding the progress made by the union in the construction of its boarding-house, and also to watch the effect on his own employees.
Entering the laboratory one day after one of his rounds of the camp, he stood for some time silently watching Darrell at his work.
"In case of a shut-down here," he said at length, speaking abruptly, "how would you like a clerical position in my office down there at Ophir,--book-keeping or something of the sort,--just temporarily, you know?"
Darrell looked up from his work in surprise. "Do you regard a shut-down as imminent?" he inquired, smiling.
"Well, yes; there"s no half-way measures with me. No man that works for me will go off the grounds for his meals. But that isn"t answering my question."
Darrell"s face grew serious. "You forget, Mr. Underwood, that until I am put to the test, I have no means of knowing whether or not I can do the work you wish done."
"By George! I never once thought of that!" Mr. Underwood exclaimed, somewhat embarra.s.sed, adding, hastily, "but then, I didn"t mean book-keeping in particular, but clerical work generally; copying instruments, looking up records, and so on. You see, it"s like this," he continued, seating himself near Darrell; "I"m thinking of taking in a partner--not in this mining business, it has nothing to do with that, but just in my mortgage-loan business down there; and in case I do, we"ll need two or three additional clerks and book-keepers, and I thought you might like to come in just temporarily until we resume operations here. Of course, the salary wouldn"t be so very much, but I thought it might be better than nothing to bridge over."