"Kathie," said Darrell, earnestly, drawing nearer to her, "have you such a hope as that?"

"It is more than hope," she answered, "it is a.s.surance; an a.s.surance that came to me, I know not whence or how, out of the darkness of despair."

They had reached the trail, and here Kate paused for a moment. It was a picture for an artist, the pair standing on that solitary height! The young girl, fair and slender as the wild flowers clinging to the rocks at their feet, yet with a poise of conscious strength; the man at her side, broad-shouldered, deep-chested, strong-limbed; his face dark with despair, hers lighted with hope.

Suddenly a small white hand swept the horizon with a swift, undulatory motion that reminded Darrell of the flight of some white-winged bird, and Kate cried,--

"Did we think of the roughness and steepness of the path below when we stood here two hours ago and looked on the glory of this scene? Did we stop to think of the bruises and scratches of the ascent, of how many times we had stumbled, or of the weariness of the way? No, it was all forgotten. And so, when we come to stand together, by and by, upon the heights of love,--such love as we have not even dreamed of yet,--will we then look back upon the tears, the pain, the heartache of to-day? Will we stop to recount the sorrows through which we climbed to the shining heights? No, they will be forgotten in the excess of joy!"

Darrell gazed at Kate in astonishment; her head was uncovered and the rays of the sinking sun touched with gleams of gold the curling locks which the breeze had blown about her face, till they seemed like a golden halo; she had the look of one who sees within the veil which covers mortal faces; she seemed at that moment something apart from earth.

Taking her hand in his, he asked, brokenly, "Sweetheart, will that day ever come, and when?"

Her eyes, luminous with love and hope, rested tenderly upon his shadowed face as she replied,--

"At the time appointed,

"'And that will be G.o.d's own good time, for you and me.'"

_Chapter XIX_

THE RETURN TO CAMP BIRD

The day preceding Darrell's departure found him busily engaged in "breaking camp," as he termed it. The a.s.sayer's outfit which he had brought from the mill was to be packed, as were also his books, and quant.i.ties of carefully written notes, the results of his explorations and experiments, to be embodied later in the work which he had in preparation, were to be sorted and filed.

Late in the afternoon Kate and her aunt, down town on a shopping tour, looked in upon him.

"Buried up to his ears!" Kate announced at the door, as she caught a glimpse of Darrell's head over a table piled high with books and ma.n.u.scripts; "it's well we came when we did, auntie; a few minutes later and he would have been invisible!"

"Don't take the trouble to look for seats, Mr. Darrell," she added, her eyes dancing with mischief as he hastily emerged and began a futile search for vacant chairs, "we only dropped in for a minute, and 'standing room only' will be sufficient."

"Yes, don't let us hinder you, Mr. Darrell," said Mrs. Dean; "we just came in to see how you were getting on, and to tell you not to trouble yourself about the things from the house; we will send and get them whenever we want them."

"I was thinking of those a while ago," Darrell answered, glancing at the pictures and hangings which had not yet been removed; "I was wondering if I ought not to send them up to the house."

"No," said Mrs. Dean, "we do not need them there at present, and any time we should want them we can send Bennett down after them."

"We will not send for them at all, auntie," said Kate, in her impulsive way; "I shall keep the room looking as much as possible as when Mr.

Darrell had it, and I shall use it as a waiting-room whenever I have to wait for papa; it will be much pleasanter than waiting in that dusty, musty old office of his."

"My room at the camp will look very bare and plain now," said Darrell, "after all the luxuries with which you have surrounded me; though I will, of course, get accustomed to it in a few days."

Kate and her aunt slyly exchanged smiles, which Darrell in his momentary abstraction failed to observe. They chatted pleasantly for a few moments, but underneath the light words and manner was a sadness that could not be disguised, and it was with a still heavier heart that Darrell returned to his work after Kate and her aunt had gone.

At last all was done, the last package was stowed away in the large wagon which was to carry the goods to camp, and the team moved up the street in the direction of The Pines, where it was to remain over night ready for an early start the next morning. Darrell, after a farewell survey of the little room, followed on foot, heartsick and weary, going directly to the stables to see the wagon safely stored for the night. He was surprised to see a second wagon, loaded with furniture, rugs, and pictures, all of which looked strangely familiar, and which on closer inspection he recognized as belonging to the room which he had always occupied at The Pines. He turned to Bennett, who was standing at a little distance, ostensibly cleaning some harness, but quietly enjoying the scene.

"Bennett, what does this mean?" he inquired. "Where are these goods going?"

"To the camp, sir."

"Surely not to the mining camp, Bennett; you must be mistaken."

"No mistake about it, sir; they goes to Camp Bird to-morrow morning; them's Mrs. Dean's orders."

Darrell was more touched than he cared to betray. He went at once to the house, and in the hall, dim with the early twilight, was met by Mrs.

Dean herself.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Darrell," she began, "but you can't occupy your room to-night; you'll have to take the one adjoining on the south. Your room was torn up to-day, and we haven't got it put to rights yet."

"Mrs. Dean," Darrell answered, his voice slightly unsteady, "you are too kind; it breaks a fellow all up and makes this sort of thing the harder!"

Mrs. Dean turned on the light as though for a better understanding.

"I don't see any special kindness in turning you out of your room on your last night here," she remarked, quietly, "but we couldn't get it settled."

Darrell could not restrain a smile as he replied, "I'm afraid it will be some time before it is settled with the furniture packed out there in the stables."

"Have you been to the stables?" she exclaimed, in dismay.

A smile was sufficient answer.

"If that isn't too bad!" she continued; "I was going to have that wagon sent ahead in the morning before you were up and have it for a surprise when you got there, and now it's all spoiled. I declare, I'm too disappointed to say a word!"

"But, Mrs. Dean," Darrell interposed, hastily, as she turned to leave, "you need not feel like that; the surprise was just as genuine and as pleasant as though it had been as you intended; besides, I can thank you now, whereas I couldn't then."

"That's just what I didn't want, and don't want now," she answered, quickly; "if there is anything I can do for you, G.o.d knows I'll do it the same as though you were my own son, and I want no thanks for it, either." And with these words she left the room before Darrell could reply.

Everything that could be done to make the rooms look cheerful and homelike as possible had been done for that night. The dining-room was decorated with flowers, and when, after dinner, the family adjourned to the sitting-room, a fire was burning in the grate, and around it had been drawn the most comfortable seats in the room.

But to Darrell the extra touches of brightness and beauty seemed only to emphasize the fact that this was the last night of anything like home life that he would know for some time to come.

It had been agreed that he and Kate were to have some music that evening, and on the piano he saw the violin which he had not used since the summer's happy days. He lifted it with the tender, caressing manner with which he always handled it, as though it were something living and human. Turning it lovingly in his hands, he caught the gleam of something in the fire-light, and, bending over it, saw a richly engraved gold plate, on which he read the words:

TO JOHN DARRELL A SOUVENIR OF "THE PINES"

FROM "KATHIE"

A mist rose before his eyes--he could not see, he could not trust himself to speak, but, raising the violin, his pent-up feelings burst forth in a flood of liquid music of such commingled sweetness and sadness as to hold his listeners entranced. Mr. Underwood, for once forgetful of his pipe, looked into the fire with a troubled gaze; he understood little of the power of expression, but even he comprehended dimly the sorrow that surged and ebbed in those wild harmonies. Mrs.

Dean, her hands folded idly above her work, sat with eyes closed, a solitary tear occasionally rolling down her cheek, while in the shadows Kate, her face buried on Duke's head and neck, was sobbing quietly.

Gradually the wild strains subsided, as the summer tempest dies away till nothing is heard but the patter of the rain-drops, and, after a few bars from a love-song, a favorite of Kate's, the music glided into the simple strains of "Home, Sweet Home." And as the oppressed and overheated atmosphere is cleared by the brief storm, so the overwrought feelings of those present were relieved by this little outburst of emotion.

A pleasant evening followed, and, except that the "good-nights"

exchanged on parting were tenderer, more heartfelt than usual, there were no indications that this was their last night together as a family circle.