 Chapter 22 of At the Time Appointed, this is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording done by Jules Harlock of Mississauga, Ontario, Canada. At the Time Appointed by A. Maynard-Barbore. Chapter 22, The Fedders Broken. Early on the morning of the third day after Mr. Britain's arrival at camp, he and Daryl set forth for the pines. But little snow had fallen within the last two days, and the trip was made without much difficulty, though progress was slow. Late in the day, as they neared the pines, the clouds, which for hours had been more or less broken, suddenly dispersed, and the setting sun sank in a flood of gold and crimson light, which gave promise of a glorious weather for the moral. Arriving at the house, they found it filled with guests, invited to the wedding from different parts of the state. The rooms resounding with light, bondage, and laughter. Very atmosphere charged with excitement as messengers came and went, and servants hurried to and fro, busyed with preparations for the following day. Kate herself hastened forward to meet them, a trifle pale but calm and wearing the faint, inscrutable smile which of late was becoming habitual with her. At sight of Daryl and his friend, her face lighted with the old-time, sunny smile, and her cheeks flushed with pleasure. She bestowed upon Mr. Britain the same affectionate greeting with which she had been accustomed to meet him since her childhood days. He was visibly affected, and though he returned her greeting, kissing her on brown and cheek, he was unable to speak. Her color deepened, and her eyes grew luminous as she turned to welcome Daryl. But she only said, I am inexpressibly glad that you came. It will be good to feel there is one amid all the crowd who knows. He knows also, Kathy. Daryl replied in low tones, indicating Mr. Britain with a slight motion of his head. Does he know all? She asked quickly. Yes, I thought you could have no objection. No, she answered after a brief pause. I am glad that it is so. There was no opportunity for further speech, as Mr. Underwood came forward to welcome his old friend and Daryl, and they were hurried off to their rooms to prepare for dinner. Mr. Underwood was not a man to do things by halves and the elaborate but informal dinner to which he and his guests sat down was all that could be desired as a gastronomic success. He himself, despite his brusque manners, was a genial host, and Walcott speedily ingratiated himself into the favor of the guests by his quiet, unobtrusive attentions, his punctilious courtesy to each and all alike. Daryl and his friend fell ill at ease and out of place amid the gait he had filled the house that evening, and at an early hour they retired to their rooms. It is awful, Daryl exclaimed, as they stood for a moment together at the door of his room listening to the sounds of merrymen from below. It is all so hollow, such a mockery. It seems like dancing over a hidden sepulchre. And we are to stand by tomorrow and witness this farce carried out to the final culmination. Mr. Britton commented in low tones, it is worse than a farce, it is a crime. My boy, how will you be able to stand it? He suddenly inquired. Daryl turned away abruptly. I could not stand it. I would not attempt it except that my presence will comfort and help her. He answered, and so they parted for the night. The following morning dawned clear and cloudless, the spotless unbroken expanse of snow gleaming in the sunlight, as though strewn with myriads of jewels. It seemed as if the earth herself had dawned her bridal array in honor of the occasion. An ideal wedding day was the universal exclamation, and such it was. The wedding was to take place at noon, a little more than an hour before the bridal party was to leave the house Daryl was walking up and down the double libraries upstairs, whether he had been summoned by a note from Kate, begging him to await her there. His thoughts went back to that summer night less than six months gone, when he had waited her coming in those very rooms, not yet six months, and he seemed to have lived years since then. He recalled her as she appeared before him that night, in all the grace and witchery of lovely maidenhood, just opening into womanhood. How beautiful, how joyous she had been, without a thought of sorrow and now. A faint sound like the breath of the wind through the leaves roused him, and Kate stood before him once more. Kate and her bridal robes, their shimmering folds trailing behind her, like the gleaming foam in the wake of a ship on a moonlit sea, while her veil, like a filmy cloud, enveloped her from head to foot. There was a moment of silence in which Daryl studied the face before him, the same, yet not the same, as on that summer night. The childlike naivete, the charming pecancy, had given place to a sweet seriousness, but it was more tender, more womanly, more beautiful. She came a step nearer, and, raising her clasped hands, placed them within Daryl's. I felt that I must see you once more, John, she said, in the low, sweet tones that always thrilled his very soul, there is something I wish to say to you, if I can only make my meaning clear, and I feel sure you will understand me, I want to pledge to you, John, for time and for eternity my heart's best and purest love, though forced into this union with a man whom I can never love, yet I will be true as a wife. God knows I would not be otherwise, that is farthest from my thoughts, but I have learned much within the past few months, and I have learned that there is a love far above all passion and sensuality, a love tender as a wife's, pure as a mother's, and lasting as eternity itself. Such love I pledge you, John Daryl, do you understand me? As she raised her eyes to his, it seemed to Daryl that he was looking into the face of one of the saints whom the old masters loved to portray centuries ago. So spiritual was it, so devoid of everything of earth. Kathy, darling, he said, clasping her hands tenderly. I do understand, and thank God, I believe I am able to reciprocate your love with one as chastened and pure. When I left the pines last fall, I did so because I could not any longer endure to be near you, loving you as I did. I felt in some blind, unreasoning way that it was wrong, and yet I knew that to cease to love you was an impossibility. But in the solitude of the mountains, God showed me a better way. He showed me the true meaning of those words. In the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven. Those words had always seemed to me austere and cold, as though they implied that our poor love would be superseded by higher attributes possessed by the angelic hosts of which we knew nothing. Now I know that they mean that our human love shall be refined from all the dross of earthly passion, purified and exalted above mortal conception. I prayed that my love for you might be in some such measure refined and purified, and I know that prayer has been answered. I pledge you that love, Kathy, a love that will never wrong you, even in thought, that you can trust in all the days to come as ready to defend or to protect you if necessary, and as always seeking your best and highest happiness. Thank you, John, she said, and bowed her head above their clasped hands for a moment. When she raised her head, her eyes were glistening. We need not be afraid or ashamed to acknowledge love such as ours, she said proudly. And with the assurance you have given me, I shall have strength and courage. Whatever may come, I must go, she added, lifting her face to his. I want your kiss now, John, rather than admit all the meaningless kisses that will be given me after the ceremony. Their lips met in a lingering kiss, then she silently withdrew from the room. As she crossed the hall, Walcott suddenly brushed past her breathlessly without seeing her and ran swiftly downstairs. His evident excitement caused her to pause for an instant. As she did, she heard him exclaim in a low, angry tone and with an oath. You dog, what brings you here? How dare you come here? There came a low reply in Spanish, followed by a few quick sharp words from Walcott in the same tongue, but which by their inflection Kate understood to be an exclamation and a question. Her curiosity aroused, she noiselessly descended to the first landing and, leaning over the balustrade, saw a small man with dark olive skin standing close to Walcott, with whom he was talking excitedly. He spoke rapidly in Spanish. Kate caught only one word, senora, as he handed a note to Walcott, at the same time pointing backward over his shoulder toward the entrance. Kate saw Walcott grow pale as he read the missive. Then, with a muttered curse, he started for the door, followed by the other. Quickly descending to the next landing, where there was an alcove window looking out upon the driveway, Kate could see a closed carriage standing before the entrance and Walcott, holding the door partially open, talking with someone inside. The colloquy was brief and, as Walcott stepped back from the carriage, the smaller man, who had been standing at a little distance, sprang in hastily. As he swung the door open for an instant, Kate had a glimpse of a woman on the rear seat dressed in black and heavily veiled. As the man closed the door, Walcott stepped to the window for a word or two, and turned towards the house, and the carriage rolled rapidly down the driveway. Kate slowly ascended the stairs, listening for Walcott, who entered the house, but instead of coming upstairs, passed through the lower hall, going directly to a private room of Mr. Underwoods, in which he received any who happened to call at the house on business. Kate went to her room, her pulse beating quickly. She felt intuitively that something was wrong, that there was revealed a phase of Walcott's personality, which she and her innocence had not considered, had not even suspected. She knew that her father believed him to be a moral man, and hitherto, she had regarded the lack of affinity between herself and him as due to a sort of mental disparity, a lack of affiliation in thought and taste. Now the conviction flashed upon her that the disparity was a moral one. She recalled the sense of loathing with which she instinctively shrank from his touch. She understood it now, and within two hours she was to have married this man. Never! Passing a large mirror, she paused and looked at the reflection there. Was there soul, its purity and beauty symbolized by her very dress, to be united to that other soul in its grossness and deformity? Her cheek blanched with horror at the thought, No, that fair body should perish first rather than soul or body ever be contaminated by his touch. Her decision was taken from that moment, and it was irrevocable. Nothing. Not even her father's love or anger, his wishes or his commands could turn her now, for as he himself boasted, his own blood flowed within her veins. Swiftly she disrobed, tearing the veil in her haste and throwing the shimmering white garments to one side as though she hated the sight of them. Taking from her jeweled casket the engagement ring which had been laid aside for the wedding ceremony, she quickly shut it within its own case to be returned as early as possible to the giver. It seemed to burn her fingers like living fire. A few moments later her aunt, entering her room, found her dressed in one of her favorite house gowns, a camel's hair of creamy white. She looked at Kate, with discarded robes on the couch nearby and stopped speechless for an instant, then stammered. Catherine, child, what does this mean? It means, Auntie, said Kate, putting her arms about her aunt's neck, that there will be no wedding and no bride today. Then looking her straight in the eyes, she added, really, Auntie, deep down in your heart, aren't you glad of it? Mrs. Dean gasped, then replied slowly, yes, it will make me very glad if you do not have to marry that man, but Catherine, I don't understand. What will your father say? Before Kate could reply, there was a heavy knock at the door, which Mrs. Dean answered. She came back looking rather frightened. Your father wishes to see you, Catherine, in your library. Something must have happened. He looks excited and worried. I don't know what he'll say to you in that dress. I'm not afraid, Kate, replied brightly. A moment later, she entered the room where less than half an hour before she had left Darrell. Mr. Underwood was walking up and down. As Kate entered, he turned towards her with a look of solitude, which quickly changed to one of surprise tinged with anger. What is the meaning of this, he demanded, looking at his watch? It is within an hour of time set for your wedding. You don't look much like a bride. Do you expect to be married in that dress? I am not to be married today, Papa, nor any other day to Mr. Walcott. Kate answered calmly. What, he exclaimed, scarcely comprehending the full import of her words, isn't that a matter bad enough, as it is without your making it worse by any foolish talk or actions? I don't understand you, Papa. To what do you refer? Why, Mr. Walcott has been called out of town by news that his father is lying at the point of death. It is doubtful whether he will live till his son can reach him. He has to take the first train south, which leaves within half an hour. Otherwise, he would have waited for the ceremony to be performed. Did he tell you that, Kate asked, with intense scorn? Certainly, and he left his farewells for you, as he hadn't time even to stop to see you. It is well that he didn't attempt it, Kate replied with spirit. I would have told him to his face that he lied. What do you mean by such language, her father demanded angrily? Do you doubt his word to me? I haven't a doubt that he was called away suddenly, but I saw him when he received the message, and he didn't appear like a man called by sickness. He was terribly excited. So excited he did not even see me when he passed me, and he was angry, for he cursed both the message and the man who brought it. Excited? Naturally. He was excited in talking with me, and his anger, no doubt, was over the postponement of the wedding. You show yourself very foolish in getting angry in turn. This is a devilishly awkward affair, though, thank heaven, there is no disgrace or scandal attached to it, and we must make the best we can of it. I have already sent messengers to the church to disperse the guests as they arrive, and I've also sent a statement of the facts to the different papers, so there will be no garbled accounts or misstatements tomorrow morning. Father said Kate, drawing herself up with new dignity as he paused. I want you to understand that this is no childish anger or peak on my part. I have not told all that I saw, nor is it necessary at present. But I saw enough that my eyes are open to his real character. I want you to understand that I will never marry him. I will die first. Her father's face grew dark with anger at her words, but the eyes looking fearlessly into his own never quailed. Perhaps he recognized his own spirit, for he checked the wrathful words he was about to speak and merely inquired. Are you going to make a fool of yourself and involve this affair in a scandal, or will you allow it to pass quietly and with no unpleasant notoriety? You can dispose of it amongst outsiders as you please, Papa, but I want you to understand my decision in this matter and that it is irrevocable until you come to your senses, he retorted and left the room. With comparatively little excitement, the guests dispersed and no one, not even Daryl or Mr. Britain, knew ought beyond the statement made by Mr. Underwood. Some particular friends of Kate's living in a remote part of the state thinking it might be rather embarrassing for her to remain in oak fear, invited her to their home for two or three months and she realizing that she had incurred her father's displeasure gladly accepted. The next morning found Daryl on his way to the camp, looking longingly forward to his busy life amid the mountains and firmly believing that it would be many a day before he saw the pines. End of Chapter 22. Chapter 23 of At the Time Appointed. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording done by Jules Harlock of Mississauga, Ontario, Canada. At the Time Appointed by A. Maynard-Barbore. Chapter 23. The Mask Lifted. Three weeks of clear, cold weather followed as the snow became packed and frozen until the horses' hooves on the mountain roads resounded as though on asphalt and the steel shoes of the heavily laden sleds rang out a cheerful rhyme on the frosty air. These were weeks of strenuous application to work on Daryl's part. His evenings were now spent far into the night in writing. He still kept the journal he'd begun during his first winter in camp believing it would one day prove of inestimable value as a connecting link between the past and the future. The geological and the mineralogical data which he had collected through more than 12 months' research and experiment was now nearly complete and he had undertaken the work of arranging it with copious notes in form for publication. It was an arduous but fascinating task and one to which he often wished he might devote his entire time. He was sitting before the fire at night deeply engrossed in this work when he was aroused by the sound of hoof beats on the mountain road leading from the canyon to the camp. He listened. They came rapidly nearer. The horsemen riding fast and furiously and by the heavy pounding of the footfalls Daryl knew the animal he rode was nearly exhausted. On they came past the miners' quarters towards the office building. It was then some messenger from the pines and at that hour Daryl glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. It could be no message of trifling import. Daryl sprang to his feet and rushing through the outer room followed by Duke barking excitedly opened the door just as the rider drew rain before it. What was his astonishment to see Bennett one of the house servants on a panting foam-covered horse? Ah, Mr. Daryl. The man cried as the door opened. It's a good thing that you keep late hours. Right glad I was to see the light in your window. I can tell you, sir. But Bennett, what brings you here at this time of night? Daryl asked hastily. Mrs. Dean sent me, sir. Mr. Underwood, he's had a stroke and is as helpless as a baby, sir. And Mrs. Dean's alone, accepting for us servants. She sent me for you, sir. Here's a note from her and she said you was to ride right back with me if you would, sir. Certainly I'll go with you, Daryl, to answer taking the note. But that horse must not stand in the cold another minute. Ride right over into the stable's yonder. Wake up the stablemen and tell them to rub him down and blanket him at once. And then to saddle tricks and rob Roy as quickly as they can. And while they're looking after the horses, you go over to the boarding house and wake up the cook and tell him to get us a good, substantial handout. We'll need it before morning. I'll be ready in a few minutes and I'll meet you over there. All right, sir. Bennett responded, starting in the direction of the stables while Daryl went back into his room. Opening the note, he read the following. My dear John, I am in trouble and look to you as a son. David has had a paralytic stroke and was brought home helpless about five o'clock. I am alone, as you might say, as there is none of the family here. Will you come at once? Yours in sorrow, but with love. Marcia Dean. Daryl's face grew thoughtful as he refolded the messif. He glanced regretfully at his notes and manuscript, then carefully gathered them together and locked them in his desk, little thinking that months would pass ere he would again resume the work thus interrupted. Then only stopping long enough to write a few lines of explanation to hath away the superintendent. He seized his fur coat, cap, and gloves and hastened over to the boarding house where a lunch was already awaiting him. Half an hour later, he and Bennett were riding rapidly down the road, Duke bounding on ahead. They reached the pines between four and five o'clock. Daryl, leaving the horses and Bennett's care, went directly to the house. Before he could reach the door, it was opened by Mrs. Dean. I ought not to have sent for you on such a night as this, she exclaimed, as Daryl entered the room, his clothes glistening with frost, the broad color turned up about his face, a mass of icicles from his frozen breath. But I felt as though I didn't know what to do and I wanted someone here who did and I was afraid to take the responsibility any longer. You did just right, Daryl answered, dashing away the ice from his face. I only wish you had sent for me earlier. As soon as this happened, how is Mr. Underwood? He is in pretty bad shape, but the doctors think he will pull through. They have been working over him all night and he is getting so he can move the right hand a little, but the other side seems badly paralyzed. Is he conscious? Yes, he moves his hand when we speak to him, but he looks so worried. That was one reason why I sent for you. I thought he would feel easier to know you were here. As Daryl approached the bedside, he was shocked at the changes wrought in so short a time in the stern but genial face. It had aged 20 years and the features partially drawn to one side had, as Mrs. Dean remarked, a strained, worried expression. The eyes of the sick man brighten for an instant as Daryl bent over him, assuring him that he would attend to everything, but the anxious look still remained. I don't know anything about David's business affairs, Mrs. Dean remarked as she and Daryl left the room, but I know as well as I want to that this was brought on by some business trouble. I am satisfied something was wrong at the office yesterday, though I wouldn't say so to anyone but you. Why do you think so? Daryl queried in surprise because he was all right when he went away yesterday morning, but when he came home at noon, he was different from what I had ever seen him before. He had just that worried look he has now and he seemed absent-minded. He was in a great hurry to get back and the head bookkeeper tells me he called for the books to be brought into his private office and that he spent most of the afternoon going through them. He says that about four o'clock he went through the office and David was sitting before his desk with his head on his hands and he didn't speak or look up. A little while afterward, they heard the sound of something heavy falling and ran to his room and he had fallen on the floor. It does look, Daryl admitted thoughtfully, as though this may have been caused by the discovery of some wrong condition of affairs. Yes, and it must be pretty serious, Mrs. Dean rejoined to bring about such results as these. Well, said Daryl, we may not be able to arrive at the cause of this for some time. The first thing to be done is to see that you take a good rest, don't have any anxiety. I will look after everything. As soon as it is daylight, it would be well to telegraph for Mr. Britton if you know his address and possibly for Miss Underwood unless he should seem decidedly better. But Mrs. Dean did not know Mr. Britton's address, no word having been received from him since his departure and with the return of daylight, Mr. Underwood had gained so perceptibly it was thought best not to alarm Kate unnecessarily. For the first few days, the improvement in Mr. Underwood's condition was slow but gradually became quite pronounced. Nothing had been heard from Walcott since his sudden leave taking, but about a week after Mr. Underwood's seizure, word was received from him that he was on his way home. As an excuse for his prolonged absence and silence, he stated that his father had died and that he had been delayed in the adjustment of business affairs. It was noticeable that after receiving word from Walcott the look of anxiety and Mr. Underwood's face deepened but his improvement was much more marked than ever. It seemed as though the powerful brain and indomitable will dominated the body, forcing it to resume its former activity. By this time he was able to move about his room on crutches and on the day of Walcott's return he insisted upon being placed in his carriage and taken to the office. At his request Darrell accompanied him and remained with him. Walcott upon his arrival in the city had heard of the illness of his senior partner and was therefore greatly surprised on entering the offices to find him there. He quickly recovered himself and greeted Mr. Underwood with expressions of profound sympathy. To his words of condolence, however, Mr. Underwood deigned no reply but his keen eyes bent on a searching look upon the face of the younger man under which the latter quailed visibly. Then without any preliminaries or any inquiries regarding his absence Mr. Underwood at once proceeded to business affairs. His stay at the office was brief as he soon found himself growing fatigued. As he was leaving Walcott inquired politely for Mrs. Dean then with great peculiarity for Miss Underwood. She is out of town at present. Mr. Underwood replied watching Walcott. Out of town? Indeed. Since when? May I inquire? You evidently have not been in correspondence with her. Mr. Underwood commented ignoring the other's question. Well, no, the latter stammered slightly taken aback by his partner's manner. I had absolutely no opportunity for writing or I would have written you earlier and then really, you know, it was hardly to be expected that I would write Miss Underwood considering her attitude towards myself. I am hoping that she will regard me with more favor after this little absence. You will probably be able to judge of that on her return the elder man answered dryly. Kate, on being informed by letter of her father's condition, had wished to return home at once. She had been deterred from doing so by brief messages from him to the effect that she remained with her friends. But she was unable to determine whether those messages were prompted by kindness or anger. On the evening following Walcott's return, however, Mr. Underwood dictated to Daryl a letter to Kate, addressing her by her pet name, assuring her of his constant improvement and that she need on no account shorten her visit but enjoy herself as long as possible and enclosing a generous check as a present. To Daryl and to Mrs. Dean, who was sitting nearby with her knitting, this letter seemed rather significant and their eyes met in a glance of mutual inquiry. After Mr. Underwood had retired, Daryl surprised that worthy lady by an account of her brother's reception of Walcott that day. While she in turn treated Daryl to a greater surprise by telling him of Kate's renunciation of Walcott at the last moment, before she knew anything of the postponement of the wedding. As they separated for the night, Daryl remarked, I may be wrong, but it looks to me as though the cause of Mr. Underwood's illness was the discovery of some evidence of bad faith on Walcott's part. It looks that way, Mrs. Dean assented. I've always felt that man would bring us trouble and I hope David does find him out before it's too late. End of chapter 23, chapter 24 of At the Time Appointed. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording done by Jules Harlick of Mississauga, Ontario, Canada. At the Time Appointed by A. Maynard Barbore. Chapter 24, For Shadowings. During Mr. Underwood's illness and convalescence it was pathetic to watch his dependence upon Daryl. He seemed to regard him almost as a son and when, as his health improved, Daryl spoke of returning to the camp, he would not hear of it. Every day after Walcott's return, Mr. Underwood was taken to the office where he gradually resumed charge directing the business of the firm though able to do little himself. As he was still unable to write, he wished Daryl to act as his secretary and the latter, glad of the opportunity to reciprocate Mr. Underwood's many kindnesses to himself, readily acceded to his wishes. When engaged in this work, he used the room which had formerly been his own office and which of late had been unoccupied. Returning to his office after the transaction of some outside business to await, as usual, the carriage to convey Mr. Underwood and himself to the pines, he heard Walcott's voice in the adjoining room. A peculiar quality in his tones as though he were pleading for favor, arrested Daryl's attention and he could not then avoid hearing what followed. But surely he was saying an amount so trifling and taking all the circumstances into consideration that I regarded myself already one of your family and looked upon you as my father. You certainly cannot take so harsh a view of it. That makes no difference whatsoever, Mr. Underwood interposed sternly. Misappropriation of funds is misappropriation of funds. No matter what the amount or the circumstances under which it is taken. And as for your looking upon me as a father, I wouldn't allow my own son, if I had one, to appropriate one dollar of my money without my knowledge and consent. If you needed money, you had only to say so and I would have loaned you any amount necessary. But I regarded this in the nature of a lone Walcott protested. Only I was so limited for time I did not think it necessary to speak of it until my return. You were not so limited, but that you had time to tamper with the books and false entries in them, Mr. Underwood retorted. That was done simply to blind the employees so they need not catch on that I was borrowing. There is no use in further talk, the other interrupted impatiently. What you have done is done and your talk will not smooth it over. Besides, I have already told you that I care far less for the money withdrawn from my personal account for the way you are conducting business generally. There is not a client of mine who can say that I have ever wronged him or taken an unfair advantage of him. And I'll not have any underhanded work started here now. Everything has got to be open and above board. As I've said, Mr. Underwood, in the hurry and excitement of the last week or so before my going away, I was forced to neglect some business matters. But if I will straighten everything into satisfactory shape and repay that small loan as I still regard it, I hope then that our former pleasant relations will be resumed and that no little misapprehension of this sort will make any difference between us. Walcott, said Mr. Underwood, rising on his crutches and preparing to leave the room. I had absolute confidence in you. I trusted you implicitly. Your own conduct has shaken the confidence and it may be some time before it is wholly restored. We will continue business as before, but remember you are on probation, sir. On probation. When Kate Underwood received her father's letter instead of prolonging her visit, she at once prepared to return home. She understood that the barrier between her father and herself had been swept away and nothing could then hold her back from him. Two days later, as Mr. Underwood was seated by the fire on his return from the office, there came a ring at the door which he took to be the postman's. Mrs. Dean answered the door. Any letter from Kate he asked as a sister returned? Yes, there's a pretty good-sized one. She replied with a broad smile, adding as he glanced in surprise that her empty hands. I didn't bring it, twas too heavy. The next instant, two arms were thrown about his neck. A slender figure was kneeling beside him and a fair young face was pressed close to his while words of endearment were murmured in his ear. Without a word he clasped her to his breast, holding her for a few moments as though he feared to let her go. Then, relaxing his hold, he playfully pinched her cheeks and stroked the brown hair, calling her by the familiar name Puss while his face lighted with the old, genial smile for the first time since his illness. Each scanned the other's face, striving to gauge the other's feelings, but each read only that the old relations were re-established between them and each were satisfied. Within a day or so of her return, Kate dispatched a messenger to Walcott with the ring, accompanied by a brief note to the effect that everything between them was at an end, but that it was useless for him to seek an explanation as she would give none whatever. He had once took the note to his senior partner. I understood, Mr. Underwood, that everything was amicably adjusted between us. I did not suppose that you had carried your suspicions against me to any such length as this. Mr. Underwood read the note, I know nothing whatever regarding my daughter's reasons for her decision, and I have had nothing whatever to do with it. I knew that she had formed that decision at the last moment before the wedding ceremony was to be performed, before she was even aware of its postponement. She seemed to think she had sufficient reasons, but what those reasons were, I have never asked and do not know. But do you intend to allow her to play fast and loose with me in this way? Is she not to fulfill her engagement? Walcott inquired, with difficulty concealing his anger. Mr. Underwood regarded him steadily for a moment. Mr. Walcott, taking all things into consideration, I think perhaps we had better let things remain as they are, say, for a year or so. My daughter is young, there is no need of haste in the consummation of this marriage. I have found what she is worth to me and I am in no haste to spare her from my home. If she is worth having as a wife, she is worth winning. And I shall not force her against her wishes a second time. Mr. Underwood spoke quietly, but Mr. Walcott understood that further discussion was useless. Meeting Kate a few days later in her father's office, he greeted her with marked politeness. After a few inquiries regarding her visit, he said, May I be allowed to inquire who is responsible for your sudden decision against me? You and you alone are responsible, she replied. But I do not understand you, he said. Explanations are unnecessary, she rejoined coldly. Walcott grew angry. I know very well that certain of your friends are no friends of mine. If I thought that either or both of them had had a hand in this, I would make it a bitter piece of work for them. Mr. Walcott said Kate with dignity. You only demean yourself by such threats. No one has influenced me in this matter but you yourself. You unwittingly afforded me, at the last moment, an insight into your real character. That is enough. Walcott felt that he had gone too far. Perhaps I spoke hastily, but surely it was pardonable considering my grievance. I hope you will overlook it and allow me to see you at the pines. Will you not, Miss Underwood? If my father sees fit to invite you to his house, I will probably meet you as his guest, but not otherwise. Although Mr. Underwood had resumed charge of the downtown offices as before his illness, it soon became evident to all that his active business life was practically over and that some of his varied interests involving as they did a multiplicity of cares and responsibilities must be curtailed. It was therefore decided to sell the mines at Camp Bird as early a date is practicable and Mr. Britton, Mr. Underwood's partner in the mining business, was summoned from the distant state to conduct negotiations for the sale. He arrived early in April and from that time on, he and Daryl were engaged in appraising and advertising the property embraced in the great mining and milling plant in arranging the terms of the sale and in accompanying various prospective purchasers or their agents to and from the mines. Daryl's work, as Mr. Underwood's secretary had been taken up by Kate, who now seldom left her father's side. Between herself and Daryl, there was a comradeship similar to that which existed between them previous to her engagement with Walcott, only more helpful and normal, being unmixed with any regret for the past or dread of the future. You will remain at the pines when the mines are sold, will you not? She inquired one day on his return from a trip to the camp. Not unless I'm needed, he replied. Your father will need me but little longer. Then, unless you need me, I had better not remain. She was silent for a moment. No, she said slowly. I do not need you. I have the assurance of your love. That is enough. I know you will be loyal to me as I to you, wherever you may be. I will feel far less regret and going away now that I know you are free from that man, Walcott, Daryl, continued. But I wish you would please answer me one question, Kathy. Have you any fear of him? Not for myself, she answered, but I believe he is a man to be feared and she added significantly. I do sometimes fear him for my friends. Perhaps for that reason it is, as you say, better that you should not remain. Have no fear for me, Kathy. I understand. That man has been my enemy from our first meeting. But have no fear. I am not afraid. By the latter part of May, negotiations for the sale of the mines had been consummated and camp bird passed into the possession of strangers. It was with a feeling of exile and homelessness that Daryl, writing for the last time down the canyon road, turned to bid the mountains farewell, looking back with lingering glances into the frowning faces he had learned to love. What do you propose doing now, Mr. Britton, asked of him as they were walking together the evening after his return from camp? That is just what I've been asking myself, Daryl replied. Without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion, not as yet, what would you wish to do were you given your choice? What I wish to do and what I intend to do, if possible, is to devote the next few months to the completion of my book. I can now afford to devote my entire time to it, but I could not do the work, just as unless amid the right surroundings, and the question is where to find them. I do not care to remain here, and yet I shrink from going among strangers. There is no need of that, Mr. Britton, interposed quickly after a pause he continued. You once expressed a desire for a sort of hermit life. I think by this time you have grown sufficiently out of yourself that you could safely live alone with yourself for a while. How would that suit you for three or four months? I should like it above all things, Daryl answered enthusiastically. It would be just the thing for my work, but where or how could I live in such a manner? I believe I agreed at that time to furnish the hermitage whenever you were ready for it. Yes, you said something of the kind, but I never understood what you meant by it. Settle up your business here, pack together what things you need for a few months, sojourn in the mountains. Be ready to start with me next week, and you will soon understand. What is this hermitage as you call it, and where is it? Daryl asked curiously. The other only shook his head with a smile. All right, said Daryl, laughing. I only hope it is as secluded and beautiful as Camp Bird. I am homesick tonight for my old quarters. You can spend your entire time, if you so desire, without a glimpse of a human being other than the man who will look after your needs, except as I may occasionally inflict myself upon you for a day or so. Good, Daryl ejaculated. It is amidst some of the grandest scenery ever created, Mr. Britton continued adding slowly, and to me it is the most sacred spot on earth, a veritable holy of holies. Someday you will know why. I thank you, and I beg pardon for my levity, said Daryl, touched by the other's manner, and the two men clasped hands and parted for the night. A few days later, as Daryl bade his friends at the pines goodbye, Kate whispered, You think this is a parting for three or four months? I feel that it is more. Something tells me that before we meet again, there will be a change. I cannot tell what. That will involve a long separation. But I know that through it all, our hearts will be true to each other, and that out of it will come joy to each of us. God granted, Kathy, Daryl murmured. End of chapter 24. Chapter 25 of At the Time Appointed. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording done by Jules Harlock of Mississauga, Ontario, Canada. At the time appointed by A. Maynard Barbour. Chapter 25, The Hermitage. Deep within the heart of the Rockies, a June day was drawing to its close. Behind a range of snow-crowned peaks, the sun was sinking into a sea of fire which glowed and shimmered along the western horizon, and in whose transfiguring radiance the bold outlines of the mountains, extending far as the eye could reach in endless ranks, were marvelously softened, the nearer cliffs and crags were wrapped in a golden glory, while the hoary peaks against the eastern sky wore tints of rose and amethyst, and over the hole brooded the silence of the ages. Less than a score of miles distance, a busy city throbbed with ceaseless life and activity, but these royal monarchs towering one above the other, their hands joined in mystic fellowship, their heads white with eternal snow, dwelt in the same unbroken calm in which, with noiseless step, the centuries had come and gone, leaving their footprints in the granite rocks. At those vast distances, only two signs of human handiwork were visible. Close clinging to the sides of the rugged mountain, a narrow track of shining steel wound its way upward, marking the pathway of civilization in its march from sea to sea, while near the summit of a neighboring peak, a quaint cabin of unhewn logs arranged in Gothic fashion was built into the granite ledge. On a small plateau before this unique dwelling stood John Britton and John Darrell, the latter absorbed in the wondrous scene the other watching with intense satisfaction the surprise and rapture of his young companion. They stood thus till the sun dipped out of sight, the radiance faded, rose and amethyst deep into purple, the mountains grew somber and done, their rugged outlines standing in bold relief against the evening sky. A night hawk circling above their heads broke the silence with his shrill, plaintive cry, and with a sigh, a deep content, Darrell turned to his friend. What do you think of it, the latter asked? It is unspeakably grand was the reply in odd tones. Beckoning Darrell to follow, Mr. Britton led the way to the cabin, which he unlocked and entered. Welcome to the hermitage, he said, smilingly as Darrell paused on the threshold with an exclamation of delight. A huge fireplace, blasted from solid rock, extended nearly across one side of the room, over it hung handlers of moose, elk, and deer, while skins of mountain line, bear and wolf covered the floor. A large writing table stood in the center of the room and beside it, a bookcase filled with works of some of the world's greatest authors. Darrell lifted one book after another with the reverential touch of a true book lover, while Mr. Britton hastily arranged the belongings of the room so as to render it as cozy and attractive as possible. The evenings are so cool at this altitude that a firewall soon seemed grateful, he remarked, lighting the fragrant boughs of spruce and hemlock, which filled the fireplace and drawing chairs before the crackling dancing flames. Duke, who had accompanied them, stretched himself in the firelight with a low growl of satisfaction, at which both men smiled. It was the first time Darrell had ever seen his friend in the role of host, but Mr. Britton proved himself a royal entertainer. His experiences of mountain life had been varied and thrilling, and the cabin contained many relics and trophies of his prowess as huntsman and trapper. As the evening wore on, Mr. Britton opened a small storeroom built in the rock and took there from a tempting repass of venison and wildfowl, which his forethought had ordered placed there for the occasion. To Darrell, sitting by the fragrant fire and listening to tales of adventure, the time passed only too swiftly, and he was sorry when the entrance of the man with his luggage recalled him to the lateness of the hour. There is a genuine hermit for you, Mr. Britton remarked, as the man took his departure after agreeing to come to the cabin once a day to do whatever might be needed. Who is he? Darrell asked. No one knows. He goes by the name of Peter, but nothing is known of his real name or history. He has lived in these mountains for 30 years and has not visited a city or town of any size in that time. He is a trapper but acts as a guide during the summers. He is very popular with tourists and hunting parties that come to the mountains, but nothing will induce him to leave his haunts except as he occasionally goes to some small station for supplies. Where does he live? In a cabin about halfway down the trail, he is a good cook, a faithful man in every way, but you will find him very reticent. He is one of the many in this country whose past is buried out of sight. Mr. Britton then led the way to two smaller rooms, a kitchen equipped with a small stove, table and cooking utensils, and a sleeping apartment. It's two bunks piled with soft blankets and wolf skins. As Darrell proceeded to disrobe, his attention was suddenly attracted by an object in one corner of the room which he was unable to distinguish clearly in the dim light. Upon going over to examine it more closely, what was his astonishment to see a large crucifix of exquisite design and workmanship. As he turned towards Mr. Britton, the latter smiled to see the bewilderment depicted on his face. You did not expect to find such a souvenir of old Rome in a mountain cabin, did you, he asked? Perhaps not, Darrell admitted, but that of itself is not what so greatly surprises me. Are you a... He paused abruptly without finishing the question. I will answer the question you hesitated to ask the other replied. No, I'm not a Catholic. Where am I in the strict sense of the word a Protestant or one who protests? Since if I were, I would protest no more earnestly against the errors of the Catholic Church than against the evils existing in other so-called Christian churches. Darrell's eyes returned to the crucifix. That continued, Mr. Britton was given to me years ago by a beloved friend of mine, a priest, now an archbishop, in return for a few services rendered some of his people. I keep it for the lessons it taught me in the years of my sorrow and whenever my burden seems greater than I can bear. I come back here and look at that and beside the suffering which it symbolizes, my own is dwarfed to insignificance. A long silence followed, then as they lay down in the darkness, Darrell said in subdued tones, I have never heard you say and I never before occurred to me to ask, what is your religion? I don't know that I have any particular religion, Mr. Britton answered slowly. I have no formulated creed. I am a child of God and a disciple of Jesus, the Christ. Like him, I am the child of a king, a son of the highest royalty, yet a servant to my fellow men. That is all. The following morning, Mr. Britton awakened Darrell at an early hour. Forgive me for disturbing your slumbers, but I want you to see the sunrise from these heights. I think you will feel repaid. You could not see it at the camp. You were so hammed in by higher mountains. Darrell rose and, having dressed hastily, stepped out into the gray twilight of the early dawn. A faint flush tinged the eastern sky, which deepened to a rosy at hue, growing moment by moment brighter and more vivid. Chain after chain of mountains, slumbering dark and grim against the horizon, suddenly awoke, blushing and smiling in the rosy light. Then, as rays of living flames shot upward, mingling with the crimson waves and changing them to molten gold, the snowy caps of the higher peaks were transformed to jeweled crowns. There was a moment of transcendent beauty. Then, in a burst of glory, the sun appeared. That is a sight I shall never forget, and one I shall try to see often, Darrell said, as they retraced their steps to the cabin. You will never find it twice the same, Mr. Britton answered. Nature varies her gifts so that to her true lovers, they will not pawl. After breakfast, they again strolled out into the sunlight. Mr. Britton seating himself upon a projecting ledge of granite. While Darrell threw himself down upon the mountain grass, his head resting within his clasped hands. What an ideal spot for my work, he exclaimed. Mr. Britton smiled. I fear you would never accomplish much with me here. I must return to the city soon, or you will degenerate into a confirmed idler. I have often thought, said Darrell reflectively, that when I have completed this work, I would like to attempt a novel. It seems as though there is plenty of material out here for a strong one. Think of the lives one comes in contact with almost daily. Stranger than fiction. Everyone. Your own, for instance, Mr. Britton suggested. Yours also Darrell replied in low tones. The story of your life, if rightly told, would do more to uplift men's souls than nine-tenths of the sermons. The story of my life, my son, will never be told to any ear other than your own, and I trust to your love for me that it will go no farther. Of that you can rest assured, Darrell replied. As the sun climbed towards the zenith, they returned to the cabin and seated themselves on a broad settee of rustic work under an overhanging vine near the cabin door. I have been wondering ever since I came here, said Darrell, how you ever discovered such a place as this. It is so unique and so appropriate to the surroundings. I discovered, said Mr. Britton, with slight emphasis on the word, only the surroundings. The cabin is my own work. What? Do you mean to say that you built it? Yes, little by little. At first it was hardly more than a rude shelter, but I gradually enlarged it and beautified it, trying always, as you say, to keep it in harmony with its surroundings. Then you are an artist and a genius. But that is not the only work I did during the first months of my life here. Come with me and I will show you. He led the way along the trail farther up the mountain till a sharp turn hid him from view. Darrell, following closely, came upon the entrance of an inclined shaft leading into the mountain. Just within he saw Mr. Britton lighting two candles, which he had taken from a rocky ledge. One of these he handed to Darrell and then proceeded down the shaft. A mine, Darrell exclaimed, was this and a valuable one, where it only accessible so that it could be developed without enormous expense. But that is out of the question. The underground workings were not extensive, but the vein was one of exceptional richness. When they emerged later, Darrell brought with him some specimens and a tiny nugget of gold as souvenirs. The first season, said Mr. Britton, I worked the mine and built the cabin as a shelter for the coming winter. The winter months I spent in hunting and trapping when I could go out in the mountains and hibernate during the long storms. Early in the spring, I began mining again and worked the following season. By that time, I was ready to start forth into the world. So I gave Peter an interest in the mine and he works it from time to time, doing little more than the representation each year. As they descended toward the cabin, Mr. Britton continued, I have shown you this that you may the better understand the story I have to tell you before I leave you as the sole occupant of the Hermitage. End of chapter 25. Chapter 26 of at the time appointed. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording done by Jules Harlec of Mississauga, Ontario, Canada. At the time appointed by A. Maynard Barbore. Chapter 26. John Britton's story. Evening found Daryl and his friends seated on the rocks, watching the sunset. Mr. Britton was unusually silent and Daryl threw a sort of intuitive sympathy refrained from breaking the silence. At last, as the glow was fading from the earth and sky, Mr. Britton said, I have chosen this day and this hour to tell you my story because being the anniversary of my wedding, it seems peculiarly appropriate. 28 years ago at sunset on such a royal day as this, we were married, my love and I. He spoke with an unnatural calmness as though it were another story he was telling. I was young with a decided aptitude for commercial life, ambitious, determined to make my way in life, but with little capital besides sound health and a good education. She was the daughter of a wealthy man. We speak in this country of mining kings. He might be denominated as an agricultural king. He prided himself upon his hundreds of fertile acres, his miles of forest, his immense dairy, his blooded horses, his magnificent barns and granaries, his beautiful home. She was the younger daughter, his special pet and pride. For a while, as a friend and acquaintance of his two daughters, I was welcomed at his home. Later, as a lover of the younger, I was banished and its doors closed against me. Our love was no foolish boy and girl romance and we had no word of kindly counsel, only unreasoning, stubborn opposition. What followed was only what might have been expected. Strong in our love for and trust in each other, we went to a neighboring village and, going to a little country personage, were married without thought of the madness, the folly of what we were doing. We found the minister and his family seated outside the house under a sort of arbor of flowering shrubs and I remember it was her wish that the ceremony be performed there. Never can I forget her as she stood there, her hands trembling in mind at the strangeness of the situation. Her cheeks flushed with excitement, her lips quivering as she made the responses, the slanting sunbeams kissing her hair and brow and the fragrant, snowy petals of the mock orange falling about her. A few weeks of unalloyed happiness followed, then gradually my eyes were open to the wrong I had done her. My heart smote me as I saw her, day by day, performing household tasks to which she was unaccustomed, subjected to petty trials and privations, denying herself in many little ways in order to help me. She never murmured, but her very fortitude and cheerfulness were a constant reproach to me. But a few months elapsed when we found another was coming to share our home and our love. We rejoiced together, but my heart reproached me more bitterly than ever as I realized how ill-prepared she was for what awaited her. Our trials and privations brought us only closer to each other, but my brain was wracked with anxiety and my heart bled as day by day I saw the dawning motherhood in her eyes. The growing tenderness, the look of sweet, wondering expectancy. I grew desperate. From a booming western city came reports of marvelous openings for businessmen. Of small investments bringing swift and large returns, I placed my wife in the care of a good motherly woman and bade her goodbye, while she, brave heart, without a tear, bade me Godspeed. I went there determined to win to make a home to which I would bring both wife and child later. For three months I made money, sending half to her and investing every cent which I did not absolutely need of the other half. Then came tales from the mining district still further west of fabulous fortunes made in a month, a week, sometimes a day. What was the use of dawning where I was? I hastened to the mining camp. In less than a week I had struck it rich and knew that in all probability I would within a month draw out a fortune. Just at this time the letters from home ceased. For seven days I heard nothing and half mad with anxiety and suspense I awaited each night the incoming train to bring me tidings. One night just as the train was about to leave I caught sight of a former acquaintance from a neighboring village, bound for a camp yet farther west and as I greeted him he told me in few words and pitying tones of the death of my wife and child. For a moment Mr. Britton paused and Daryl drew instinctively near though saying nothing. I have no distinct recollection of what followed I was told afterwards that friendly hands caught me as the train started to save me from being crushed beneath the wheels. For three months I wandered from one mining camp to another working mechanically with no thought or care as to success or failure. An old miner from the first camp who had taken a liking to me followed me in my wanderings and worked beside me caring for me and guarding my savings as though he had been a father. The old fellow never left me nor I him until his death three years later. He taught me many valuable points in practical mining and I think his rough but kindly care was all that saved me from insanity during those years. After his death I brooded over my grief till I became nearly frenzied. I could not banish the thought that but for my rashness and foolishness and taking her from her home my wife might still have been living. To myself I seemed little short of a murderer. I left the camp and wandered night and day afar into the mountains. I came to this mountain in which we are sitting and climbed nearly to the top. God was there but like Jacob of old I knew it not. But something seemed to speak to me out of the infinite silence calming my frenzied brain and soothing my troubled soul. I sat there till its stars appeared and then I sank into a deep peaceful sleep the first in years. When I awoke the sun was shining in my face and though the old pain still throbbed I had a sense of a new strength with which to bear it. I ate of the food I carried with me and drank from the mountain stream the same that trickles past us now only nearer its source. The place fascinated me. I dared not leave it and I spent the day in wandering up and down the rocks. My steps were guided to the mind I showed you today. I saw the indications of richness there and overturning the earth with my pick found gold among the very grassroots then followed the life of which I have already given you an outline. For a while I worked in pain and anguish but gradually in the solitude of the mountains my spirit found peace against their infinity my life with its burden dwindled to an atom and from the lessons of their centuries of silent waiting I gathered strength and fortitude to await my appointed time. But after a time God spoke to me and bade me go forth from my solitude into the world to comfort other sorrowing souls as I had been comforted. From that time I have traveled almost constantly. I have no home. I wish none. I want to bring comfort and help to as many of earth's sorrowing sinning children as possible. But when the old wound bleeds afresh and the pain becomes more than I can bear I flee as a bird to my mountain for balm and healing. Do you wonder my son that the place is sacred to me? Do you understand my love for you in bringing you here? Daryl sat with bowed head speechless but one hand went out to Mr. Britain which the latter clasped in both his own. When at last he raised his head and he exclaimed, strange, but your story has wrung my soul. It seems in some inexplicable way a part of my very life. Our souls seem united by some mystic tie. I cannot explain what unless it be that some respects our sufferings have been similar. Mine have been as nothing to yours, Daryl replied. A moment later he added, I feel as one in a dream what you have told me has taken such hold upon me. Night had fallen when they returned to the cabin. This seems hallowed ground to me now, Daryl remarked. It has always seemed so to me Mr. Britain replied, but remember so long as you have need of a place it is always open to you. Until the daybreak and the shadows flee away Daryl responded in low tones as though to himself. Mr. Britain caught his meaning. My son he said when the day breaks for you do not forget those who still sit in darkness. End of chapter 26. Chapter 27 of At the Time Appointed This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Amy Graymore At the time appointed by A. Maynard Barber Chapter 27 The Rending of the Vale The story of Mr. Britain's life impressed Daryl deeply. In the days following his friend's departure he would sit for hours revolving it in his mind, unable to rid himself of the impression that it was in some way connected with his own life, impelled by some motive he could scarcely explain he recorded it in his journal as told by Mr. Britain as nearly as he could recall it. Left to himself he worked with unabated ardor, but his work soon grew unsatisfying. The inspiring nature of his surroundings seemed to stimulate him to higher effort in loftier work, which should call into play the imaginative faculties in which the brain would be free to weave its own creations. Stronger within him grew the desire to write a novel which should have in it something of the power, the force, of the strenuous western life, something which would seem, in a measure at least, worthy of his surroundings. As day's work ended he would walk up and down the rocks sometimes far into the night, the plot for his story forming within his brain till at last its outlines grew distinct and he knew the thing that was to be as the sculptor knows what will come forth from his bidding from the lifeless marble. He made a careful synopsis of the plot that nothing might escape him in the uncertain future and then began to write. The order of his work was now reversed, the new undertaking being given his first and best thought. Then, when imagination wearied and refused to rise above the realms of fact, he fell back upon his scientific work as a rest from the other. Thus employed the weeks past with incredible swiftness. The monotony broken by an occasional visit from Mr. Britain until August came its hot breath turning the grasses sear and brown. One evening Daryl came forth from his work at a later hour than usual. His mind had been unusually active, his imagination vivid, but wearied at last he was compelled to stop short of the task he had set for himself. The heat had been intense that day and the atmosphere seemed peculiarly oppressive. The sun was sinking amid light clouds of gorgeous tints and as Daryl watched their changing outlines they seemed to fit emblems of the thought at that moment baffling his weary brain. Illusive, intangible, presenting themselves in numberless forms, yet always beyond his grasp. Standing erect with arms folded his pose indicated conscious strength and the face lifted to the evening sky was one which would have commended attention amid a sea of human faces. Two years had wrought wondrous changes in it. Strength and firmness were there still but sweetness was mingled with the strength and the old indomitable will was tempered with a gentleness. All the finest susceptibilities had been awakened and had left their impress there. Introspection had done its work. It was the face of a man who knew himself and had conquered himself. The sculptor's work was almost complete. Not a breath stirred the air which moment by moment grew more oppressive, presaging a coming storm. Daryl was suddenly filled with a strange unrest, a pre-sentiment of some impending catastrophe. For a while he walked restlessly up and down the narrow plateau. Then, seating himself in front of the cabin, he bowed his head upon his hands, shouting out all sight and thought of the present for his mind seemed teeming with vague shadowy forms of the past. Duke came near and laid his head against his master's shoulder and the twilight deepened around them both. Far up the neighboring mountain a mighty engine loomed out from the gathering darkness. A fiery-headed monster and with its long train of coaches crawled serpent-like around the rocky height then vanished as it came the clouds which had been roving indolently across the western horizon suddenly formed in line and moved steadily a solid battalion upward towards the zenith while from the east another phalanx black and threatening advanced with low wrathful mutterings. Unmindful of the approaching storm Daryl sat silent and motionless till a sudden peel of thunder the first note of the impending battle roused him from his reverie springing to his feet he watched the rapidly advancing armies upon the battle-ground another roll of thunder and the conflict began up and down the mountain passes the winds rushed wildly shrieking like demons around the lofty summits the lightnings played like the burnished swords of giants in mortal combat while peel after peel resounded through the vast spaces reverberated from peak to peak echoed and re-echoed till the rocks themselves seemed to tremble with quickening pulse and bated breath Daryl watched the storm fascinated and tranced while emotions he could neither understand nor control surged through his breast more and more fiercely the battle waged more swift and brilliant grew the sword play while the roar of heaven's artillery grew louder and louder his spirit rose with the strife filling him with a strange sense of exaltation suddenly the universe seemed wrapped in flame it was a deafening crash as though the eternal hills were being rent asunder and then oblivion in that instant of blinding light and deafening sound had passed John Daryl lay prostrate unconscious on the rocks End of Chapter 27 Chapter 28 of At The Time Appointed This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Amy Graymore At The Time Appointed by A. Maynard Barber Chapter 28 As the morning sun rose over the snowy summits of the great divide the sleeper on the rocks stirred restlessly then gradually awoke to consciousness a delightful consciousness of renewed life and vigor a subtle sense of revivification of body and mind the racking pain, the burning fever the legions of torturing phantoms all were gone his pulse was calm, his blood cool his brain clear with a sigh of deep content he opened his eyes then suddenly rose to a sitting posture and gazed about him in utter bewilderment above him only the boundless dome of heaven around him only endless mountain ranges dazed by the strangeness, the isolation of the scene he began for an instant to doubt his sanity was this a reality or a chimera of his own imagination but only for an instant for with his first movement a large collie had bounded to a side and now began licking his hands in face with the most joyful demonstrations it was something soothing and reassuring and the companionship even of the dumb brute and he caressed the noble creature confident that he would soon find some sign of human life in that strange region but the dog reading no look of recognition in the face beside him drew back and began whining piteously perplexed but with his faculties thoroughly aroused and active the young man sprang to his feet and looking eagerly about him discovered at a little distance cabin against the mountain ledge hastening thither he found the door open and after vainly waiting for any response to his knocking entered the furnishings were mostly handmade but fashioned with considerable artistic skill and contributed to give the interior a most attractive appearance while etchings, books and papers pages of written manuscript and a violin indicated its occupants to be a man of refined tastes and studious habits the dog had accompanied him sometimes falling closely sometimes going on in advance as though to lead the way once within the cabin he led him to the storeroom in the rock where was an abundance of food which the latter proceeded to divide between himself and his dumb guide having satisfied his hunger the young man took a newspaper from the table and going outside the cabin seated himself to await the return of his unknown host sitting there he discovered for the first time the railway winding around the sides the site filled him with delight for those slender rails gleaming in the morning sunlight seemed to connect him with the world which he remembered from which he appeared so strangely isolated unfolding the newspaper his attention was attracted by the date at which he gazed in consternation his eyes riveted to the page for a moment his head swam he was unable to believe his own senses dropping the sheet and bowing his head upon his hands he went carefully over the past the business on which he had been commissioned to come west his journey westward the tragedy in the sleeping car he shuddered as the memory of the murderer's face flashed before him with terrible distinctness his reception at the pines all was as clear as though it had happened but yesterday it was in August and this was August but two years later great god had two years dropped out of his life again he recalled his illness the long agony, the final sinking into oblivion the strange awakening in perfect health yes surely there must be a missing link but how, where he rose to re-enter the cabin and passing the window caught a glimpse of his face reflected there a face like and yet unlike his own and crowned with snow-white hair in doubt and bewilderment he paced up and down within the cabin vainly striving to connect these fragmentary parts to reconcile the present with the past as he passed and repast the table covered with manuscript the tension was attracted by an odd-looking volume bound in flexible Morocco and containing several hundred pages of written matter it lay partly open in a conspicuous place and upon the fly-leaf was written in large bold characters to my other self should he awaken he could not banish the words from his mind they drew him with irresistible magnetism again and again he read them until impelled by some power he could not explain he seized the volume and seating himself in the doorway of the cabin proceeded to examine it lifting the fly-leaf he read the following inscription to one from the outer world whose identity is hidden among the secrets of the past the hope that when the veil is lifted these pages may assist him and uniting into one perfect whole the strangely disjointed portions of his life they are inscribed by John Darrell he smiled as he read the name and recalled the circumstances under which he had taken it but he no longer felt any hesitation regarding the volume in his hands and he began to read it was written as communication from one stranger to another from the mountain reclos to one whose life he had not the slightest knowledge but he knew without a doubt that it was addressed to himself yet written by himself that writer and reader were one and the same for more than two hours he read on and on deeply absorbed in the tale of that solitary life his own heart responding to each note of sorrow of hope or despair and vibrating to the undertone of loneliness and longing running through it all he strove vainly to recall the characters in the strange drama in which he had played his part but of which he had now no distinct recollection dimly they passed before his vision like the shadowy phantoms of a dream from which one is just awakened he started at the first mention of John Britton's name eagerly following each outline of that noble character his heart kindling with affection in his words of loving, helpful counsel his face grew tender in his eyes filled at the love story so pathetically brief faithfully transcribed on those pages but of Kate Underwood he could only recall a slender girl with golden brown hair and wistful appealing brown eyes he wandered at the strength of character shown by her speech and conduct and his heart went out to this unknown love notwithstanding that memory now showed him the picture of another and earlier love in the Far East John Britton's life which moved him most with strained eager eyes and baited breath he read that sad recital and at its termination buried his face in his hands and sobbed like a child when he had grown calm he sat for some time reviewing the past and forming plans for future action while thus absorbed and thought he heard a step and looking up saw standing before him a man of apparently sixty years with bronze face and grizzled hair whose small piercing eyes regarded him with keen scrutiny in response to the younger man's greeting he only bowed silently you must be Peter the Hermit young man exclaimed but whoever you are you are welcome I'm glad to see a human face and you replied the other slowly you are not the same man that you were yesterday you have awakened as he said you would someday as who said the other man questioned John Britton the other replied yes I have awakened and my life here is like a dream sit down Peter I want to ask you some questions for half an hour they sat together the younger man asking questions the other answering in as few words as possible his keen eyes never leaving the face of his interlocutor where is this John Britton the young man finally inquired an offer at a place called the pines I know the place I remember it how far is it from here fifteen miles by rail from the station at the foot of the mountain I must go to him at once you will show me the way Peter glanced at the sun we cannot get down the trail and season for today's train we will start tomorrow morning without further speech he went into the cabin and busied himself with his accustomed duties when he reappeared he again stood silently regarding the younger man with his fixed penetrating gaze what awakened you he asked at length the abruptness of the question as well as its tenor startled the other that was a phase of the mystery surrounding himself of which he had not even thought I don't know," he replied slowly that question had not occurred to me before what do you think? might it not have come about in the ordinary sequence of events? Peter shook his head not likely, he muttered there must have been a shock of some kind the young man smiled brightly well, I cannot answer for yesterday's events, he said having neither record nor recollection of the day but I certainly sustained a shock this morning unawakening on the bare rocks at such an altitude as this and with no trace of a human being visible on the rocks Peter repeated where? yonder said the young man indicating the direction come, I'll show you the exact spot he led the way to his rocky bed near one end of the plateau then watched his companion's movements as he knelt down and carefully inspected the rock then rising to his feet looked searchingly in every direction with his ferret light glance ah! the latter suddenly exclaimed with emphasis at the same time pointing to a rock almost overhanging their heads following the direction indicated the young man saw a pine tree on the edge of the overhanging rock the entire length of its trunk split open its branches shriveled and blackened as though by fire Peter, not withstanding his age sprang up the rocks with the agility of a panther the younger man following more slowly as he came up Peter turned from an examination of the dead tree and looked at him significantly an electric shock he said that was a living tree yesterday it was an electric storm last night ten years it brought death to this tree but life to you to the younger man the words of the old hermit seemed incredible but that night brought him a strange confirmation of their truth upon disrobing for the night what was his astonishment to discover upon his right shoulder an extending downward diagonally across the right breast along blue mark of a regular zigzag form while running parallel with its entire length perfect as though done in india ink ten was the outline of the very scene surrounding him where he lay that morning cliff and crag and mountain peak traced indelibly upon the living flesh an indubitable experience of the power which had finally aroused his dormant faculties and a souvenir of the lost years which he would carry with him to his dying day end of chapter 28 chapter 29 of at the time appointed this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Jules Harlock Mississauga, Ontario Canada at the time appointed by a Maynard Barber chapter 29 John Darrell John Darrell's story On the following morning the cabin on the mountain side was closed at an early hour and its late occupant accompanied by Peter and the collie descended the trail to the small station near the base of the mountain where he took leave of the old hermit on his arrival at Ope here he ordered a carriage and drove directly to the pines for he was impatient to see John Britton as early a date as possible and was fearful as the latter with his migratory habits might escape him it was near noon when having dismissed the carriage he rang for admission he recalled the house and grounds as they appeared to him on his first arrival but he found it hard to realize that he was looking upon the scenes among which that strange drama of the last two years had been enacted Mr. Underwood himself came to the door why Darrell my boy how do you do he exclaimed shaking hands heartily thought you'd take us by surprise got a little tired of living alone I guess and thought you'd come back to your friends well that's mighty good to see you come in we'll have lunch in about an hour to Mr. Underwood surprised the young man did not immediately accept the invitation to come in but seemed to hesitate for a moment I'm very glad to meet you Mr. Underwood he responded pleasantly but with a shade of reserve in his manner I remember you very well indeed and probably yours is about the only face I will be able to recall for a moment Mr. Underwood seemed staggered unable to comprehend the meaning of the others words the young man continued I understand Mr. Britain is stopping with you is he still here or has he left he is here Mr. Underwood replied but good God Darrell what does this mean before the other could reply Mr. Britain who was in the adjoining room and had overheard the colloquy can't quickly forward he gave a swift penetrating glance into the young man's face then turning to Mr. Underwood said it means David that our young friend has come to his own again he is no longer of our world or of us then turning to the young man he said I am John Britain do you wish to see me the other looked earnestly into the face of the speaker and his own features betrayed emotions as he replied I do I must see you on especially important business David you will let us have the use of your private room for a while Mr. Britain inquired Mr. Underwood nodded silently his eyes fixed with a troubled expression upon the young man's face the latter observing his distress said don't think Mr. Underwood that I am insensitive to all your kindness to me since my coming here two years ago I shall see you later and show you that I am not lacking in appreciation though I can never express my gratitude to you but before I can do that before I can even tell you who I am it is necessary that I see Mr. Britain said Mr. Underwood gruffly don't talk to me of gratitude I don't want any but my God boy I had come to look on you almost as my own son and turning abruptly he left the room before either of the others could speak he is a man of very strong feelings said Mr. Britain leading the way to Mr. Underwood's room and to tell the truth he was a pretty hard blow to each of us although we should have prepared ourselves for it beseeded my son seating himself beside the young man and again looking into his face he said I see that the day has dawned when did the light come and how briefly the other related his awakening on the rocks and events which followed down the journal which recorded so faithfully the history of the missing years Mr. Britain listening with intense interest at last the young man said of all the records of that journal there was nothing that interested me so greatly or moved me so deeply as did the story of your own life that is what brought me here today I have come to tell you my story the story of John Darrell you may have known him and possibly you may find it in some ways a counterpart to your own I was drawn towards you in some inexplicable way for our first meeting Mr. Britain replied slowly you became as dear to me as a son so that I gave you in confidence the story that no other human being has ever heard it is needless to say that I appreciate this mark of confidence in return and that you can rest assured of my deepest interest in anything concerning yourself the younger man drew his chair nearer his companion as you already know he said I'm a mine expert I came out here on a commission for a large eastern syndicate and as there was likely to be lively competition and I wish to remain incognito I took the name of John Darrell which in reality was a part of my own name my home is in New York state I was a country bread boy brought up on one of those great farms which abound a little north of Central Park of the state but though country bread I was not a rustic for my mother who was my principal instructor until I was about 14 years of age was a woman of refinement and culture my mother and I lived at her father's house a beautiful country home but even while I a mere child I became aware that there was some kind of unpleasant secret in our family my grandfather would never allow my father's name mentioned and he had little love for me as his child but my earliest recollections of my mother are of her kneeling with me night after night teaching me to love and revere the father I had never known who she's told me was gone away and to pray always for his welfare and for his return at 14 I was sent away to a preparatory school and afterwards to college then as I developed a taste for mineralogy and metallurgy I took a course in the columbian school of mines by this time I had learned that it was generally supposed my mother was a widow there were those, my grandfather among them, who believed that my father had deserted her my first intimation of this was an insinuation to that effect by my grandfather himself soon after my graduation I was an athlete and already had a good position at a fair salary and so great was my love for my father's name that I told the old gentleman that nothing but his white hair saved him from a sound thrashing and that at first repetition of any such insinuation I would take my mother from under his roof and provide a home for her myself that sufficed to silence him effectively for he idolized her after this little episode I went to my mother regarding my father the young man paused for a moment his dark eyes gazing earnestly into the clear grey eyes watching him intently then without shifting his gaze he continued in slow tones she told me that about a year before my birth she and my father were married against her father's will his only objections to the marriage being that my father was poor she told me of their happy married life that followed but that my father was ambitious and the consciousness of poverty and the fact that he could not provide for her as he wished galled him she told me how when there was revealed to them the promise of a new love and life within their little home he redoubled his efforts to do for her and hers and then dissatisfied went out into the new west to build a home for his little family she told of the brave loving letters that came so faithfully and the generous remittances to provide for every possible need in the coming emergency then fortune beckoned him still farther west and he obeyed daring the dangers of that strange wild country for the love he bore his wife and his unborn child from that country only one letter ever was received from him just at that time I was born and my life came near costing hers who bore me for weeks she lay between life and death so low that the report of her death reached her parents bringing them broken hearted and as they supposed too late to her humble home they found her yet living and through their love into the battle against death in all this time no news came from the great west as soon as she could be moved my mother and her child were taken to her father's home her father forgave her but he had no forgiveness for her husband and no love for his child he tried to make my mother believe her husband had deserted her but she was loyal in her trust in him as in her love for him she named her child for her father John but as her father would not allow the name repeated in his hearing she gave him the additional name of Daryld by which he was universally known but in those sacred hours when she told me of my father and taught me to pray for him she always called me by his name John Britain as he sees speaking both men rose simultaneously to their feet the elder man placed his hands upon the shoulders of the younger and standing thus face to face they looked into each other's eyes as though each was reading the others in most soul what was your mother's name Mr. Britain asked in low tones patience, patience Jewett replied the other Mr. Britain bowed his head with deep emotion his son were clasped in each other's arms when they had grown calm enough for speech Mr. Britain first words were of his wife what of your mother my son was she living when you came west yes but her health was delicate and I'm fearful of the effects of my long absence it must have been a terrible strain upon her as soon as I reached the city this morning I telegraphed a schoolmate for tidings of her and I'm expecting an answer any moment they talked of the strained chain of circumstances which had brought them together and of the mysterious bond by which they had been so closely united while as yet unconscious of their relationship the summons to lunch recalled them to the present as they rose to leave the room Mr. Britain threw his arms affectionately about Daryl's shoulders exclaiming my son mine and I have loved you as much from the first time I looked into your eyes if God will now only permit me to see my beloved wife again I can ask nothing more and as Daryl gazed at the noble form towering slightly above his own and looked into the depths of those grey eyes waiting fearless yet tender as a woman's he felt that however sweet and sacred had been the friendship between them in the past it was as not compared with the infinitely sweeter and holier relationship of father and son they passed into the dining room where Mr. Underwood and Mrs. Dean awaited them a look of eager expectancy on both faces the impression of Mrs. Dean as she watched for the first token of recognition on Daryl's part being almost pathetic Mr. Britain who had entered slightly in advance paused halfway across the room and placing his hand on Daryl's shoulder said in a voice which vibrated with emotion my dear friends Mrs. Dean and Mr. Underwood allow me to introduce my son Daryl Britain there was a moment of strange silence in which only the labored breathing of Mr. Underwood could be heard do you mean that you have adopted him Mr. Underwood asked slowly seeming to speak with difficulty no David he is my own flesh and blood my legitimate son I will explain later Mrs. Dean and Daryl clasped hands and were scanning each other's faces John do you remember me she asked with trembling lips Daryl bent his head and kissed her I do Mrs. Dean he replied she smiled at the same time wiping away a tear with the corner of her white apron I don't think I could have borne it if you hadn't she remarked simply then shaking hands with Mr. Britain she added I congratulate you Mr. Britain I congratulate you both if ever there were two who ought to be father and son you are the two Mr. Underwood run Daryl's hand I congratulate you boy and I'm mighty glad to find you're not a stranger to us after all then grasping his old time partner's hand he added Jack you old fraud you've always got the best of me and every bargain but I forgive you this time I wanted the boy myself but you seem to have the best title so there's no use trying to jump your claim lunch was just over as a messenger was announced and a moment later a telegram was handed to Daryl as he opened the mists of his fingers trembled and Mr. Britain's face grew pale Daryl hastily read the contents then met his father's anxious glance with a reassuring smile she is living in unusual health though my friends say she is much more delicate than when I left we must go to her at once my boy said Mr. Britain how soon can you leave in a very few hours do you wish to start Mr. Britain consulted a timetable he found express leaves at 10.30 tonight can we make that sure Daryl responded with an enthusiasm new to his western friends you can't start too soon for me and there isn't a train that travels fast enough to take me to that little mother of mine especially with the good news that I have for her half an hour later as he was hastily gathering together his possessions he came suddenly upon a picture at sight of which he paused and then stood spellbound all else for the time forgotten it was a portrait of Kate Underwood taken in a gown she had worn on that night of her first reception it served as a connecting link between the past and the present gazing at it he was able to understand how the young girl whom he faintly remembered had grown into the strong sweet character delineated in the recorded story of his love he was able to recall some of the scenes portrayed there he recalled her as she stood that day on the divide her head uncovered her gleaming hair like a halo about her face her eyes shining with a light that was not of earth he kissed the picture reverently sweet angel of my dream he murmured come what may you hold and always will a place in my heart which no other can ever take from you I will lay your sweet face away never again to be lifted from its hiding place until I can look upon it as the face of my betrothed his trunk was packed his preparations for departure nearly complete when there came a gentle tap and Mrs. Dean entered I was afraid she said speaking with some hesitation that you might think it's strange if you did not see Catherine and I wanted to explain that she is away she went out of town to be gone for a few days she will be very sorry when she returns to find that she has missed seeing you thank you Mrs. Dean said Daryl slowly on some accounts I did not meet Kate but on the whole I think perhaps it's better as it is I don't suppose you remember her except as you saw her when you first came Mrs. Dean added wistfully I should like to have you see her as she is now I think she has matured into a beautiful young woman yes I remember her Mrs. Dean she is beautiful oh do you exclaimed with a happy smile Daryl came near and took her hands within his own will you give her a message from me just as I give it to you she will understand oh yes gladly tell her said Daryl and his voice trembled slightly tell her I will see her at the time appointed and that I never forget end of chapter 29