Patty had received, by the hand of Brady, a letter from her father,
asking her to come home. Do not think that Captain Lumsden wrote
penitently and asked Patty's forgiveness. Captain Lumsden never did
anything otherwise than meanly. He wrote that he was now bedridden
with rheumatism, and it seemed hard that he should be forsaken by his
oldest daughter, who ought to be the stay of his declining years. He
did not understand how Patty could pretend to be so religious and yet
leave him to suffer without the comfort of her presence. The other
children were young, and the house was in hopeless confusion. If the
Methodists had not quite turned her heart away from her poor
afflicted father, she would come at once and help him in his
troubles. He was ready to forgive the past, and as for her religion,
if she did not trouble him with it, she could do as she pleased. He
did not think much of a religion that set a daughter against her
father, though.
Patty was too much rejoiced at the open door that it set before her
to feel the sting very keenly. There was another pain that had grown
worse with every day she had spent with Morton. Beside her own
sorrow she felt for him. There was a strange restlessness in his
eyes, an eager and vacillating activity in what he was doing, that
indicated how fearfully the tempest raged within. For Morton's old
desperation was upon him, and Patty was in terror for the result.
About the time of Kike's death the dove settled upon his soul also.
He had mastered himself, and the restless wildness had given place to
a look of constraint and suffering that was less alarming but hardly
less distressing to Patty, who had also the agony of hiding her own
agony. But the disappearance of Pinkey had awakened some hope in
her. Not one jot of this trembling hopefulness did she dare impart
to Morton, who for his part had but one consolation--he would throw
away his life in the battle, as Kike had done before him.
So eager was Patty to leave her school now and hasten to her father,
that she could not endure to stay the weeks that were necessary to
complete her term. She had canvassed with Doctor Morgan the
possibility of getting some one to take her place, and both had
concluded that there was no one available, Miss Jane Morgan being too
much out of health. But to their surprise Nettie offered her
services. She had not been of much more use in the world than a
humming-bird, she said, and now it seemed to her that Kike would be
better pleased that she should make herself useful.
Thus released, Patty started home immediately, and Morton, who could
not reach the distant part of his circuit, upon which his supply was
now preaching, in time to resume his work at once, concluded to set
out for Hissawachee also, that he might see how his parents fared.
But he concealed his purpose from Patty, who departed in company with
Brady and his wife. Morton would not trust himself in her society
longer. He therefore rode round by a circuitous way, and, thanks to
Dolly, reached Hissawachee before them.
I may not describe the enthusiasm with which Morton was received at
home. Scarcely had he kissed his mother and shaken hands with his
father, who was surprised that none of his dolorous predictions had
been fulfilled, and greeted young Henry, now shooting up into
manhood, when his mother whispered to him that his brother Lewis was
alive and had come home.
"What! Lewis alive?" exclaimed Morton, "I thought he was killed in
Pittsburg ten years ago."
"That was a false report. He had been doing badly, and he did not
want to return, and so he let us believe him dead. But now he has
come back and he is afraid you will not receive him kindly. I
suppose he thinks because you are a preacher you will be hard on his
evil ways. But you won't be too hard, will you?"
"I? God knows I have been too great a sinner myself for that. Where
is Lew? I can just remember how he used to whittle boats for me when
I was a little boy. I remember the morning he ran off, and how after
that you always wanted to move West. Poor Lew! Where has he gone?"
His mother opened the door of the little bed-room and led out the
brother.
"What! Burchard?" cried Morton. "What does this mean? Are you
Lewis Goodwin?"
[Illustration: THE BROTHERS.]
"I am!"
"That's why you gave me back my horse and gun when you found out who
I was. That's how you saved me that day at Brewer's Hole. And
that's why you warned me at Salt Fork and sent me that other warning.
Well, Lewis, I would be glad to see you anyhow, but I ought to be not
only glad as a brother, but glad that I can thank you for saving my
life."
"But I've been a worse man than you think, Mort."
"What of that? God forgives, and I am sure that it is not for such a
sinner as I am to condemn you. If you knew what desperate thoughts
have tempted me in the last week you would know how much I am your
brother."
Just here Brady knocked at the door and pushed it open, with a
"Howdy, Misses Goodwin? Howdy, Mr. Goodwin? and, Moirton, howdy do?"
"This is my brother Lewis, Mr. Brady. We thought he was dead."
"Heigh-ho! The prodigal's come back agin, eh? Mrs. Goodwin, I
congratilate ye."
And then Mrs. Brady was introduced to Lewis. Patty, who stood
behind, came forward, and Morton said: "Miss Lumsden, my brother
Lewis."
"You needn't introduce her," said Lewis. "She knows me already. If
it hadn't been for her I might have been dead, and in perdition, I
suppose.
"Why, how's that?" asked Morton, bewildered.
"She nursed me in sickness, and read the parable of the Prodigal Son,
and told me that it was my mother's favorite chapter."
"So it is," said Mrs. Goodwin; "I've read it every day for years.
But how did you know that, Patty?"
"Why," said Lewis, "she said that one woman knew how another woman
felt. But you don't know how good Miss Lumsden is. She did not know
me as Lewis Goodwin or Burchard, but in quite a different character.
I suppose I'd as well make a clean breast of it, Mort, at once. Then
there'll be no surprises afterward. And if you hate me when you know
it all, I can't help it." With that he stepped into the bedroom and
came forth with long beard and wolf-skin cap.
"What! Pinkey?" said Morton, with horror.
"The Pinkey that you told that big preacher to knock down, and then
hunted all over the country to find."
Seeing Morton's pained expression at this discovery of his brother's
bad character, Patty added adroitly: "The Pinkey that saved your
life, Morton."
Morton got up and stood before his brother. "Give me your hand
again, Lewis. I am so glad you came home at last. God bless you."
Lewis sat down and rested his head in his hands. "I have been a very
wicked man, Morton, but I never committed a murder. I am guilty of
complicity. I got tangled in the net of Micajah Harp's band. I
helped them because they had a hold on me, and I was too weak to risk
the consequences of breaking with them. That complicity has spoiled
all my life. But the crimes they laid on Pinkey were mostly
committed by others. Pinkey was a sort of ghost at whose doors all
sins were laid."
"I must hurry home," said Patty. "I only stopped to shake hands,"
and she rose to go.
"Miss Lumsden," said Lewis, "you wanted me to destroy these lies.
You shall have them to do what you like with. I wish you could take
my sins, too."
Patty put the disguises into the fire. "Only God can take your
sins," she said.
"Even he can't make me forget them," said Lewis, with bitterness.
Patty went home in anxiety. Lewis Goodwin seemed to have forgotten
the resolution he had made as Pinkey to save Morton from Ann Eliza.
But Patty went home bravely and let thoughts of present duty crowd
out thoughts of possible happiness. She bore the peculiar paternal
greetings of her father; she installed herself at once, and began,
like a good genius, to evolve order out of chaos. By the time
evening arrived the place had come to know its mistress again.