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The gypsy woman told the story of the appearance of the two girls and their chaperon, and the aid they had given to the prisoner. She made no accusation against her son. But the boy's master demanded to know in what direction his prisoner and the women had run. Jeff would not tell. He had managed to escape from the angry men and, guided by some instinct, he had found his friends in the woods.
There was one more duty to be performed on the return of the funeral party to the school-room, and that was to distribute some of the dear boy's books and treasures to those who would specially value them.
"Is this what you wanted, my darling?" she asked, bending over the little boy. The child nodded and held out his hands for the star; and as he clasped it a wonderful, shining smile came over his face. The next morning the little boy's room was very still and dark. The golden piece of paper that had been the star lay on a table beside the bed, its five points very sharp and bright.
"That when I am gone you will think of what I am telling you now, and when the colored people all gather around to see this tired body of mine laid aside, you'll remember Dr. Leonard's coat, and you'll say, 'George has left his behind too. He isn't here, but he's just on the other side of the toll-gate. Will you do that, John Jay?" There was a frightened look in the boy's eyes.
He patted the boy's head, and entered the sheepfold, while Salome stood leaning against the fence, looking vacantly down at the bleating flock.
And there gazing into the deep, still waters, where he had cast his hook, he came to understand. It was that same dominant note in the boy's life, that inborn passion to serve, that fixed principle in his character that his life must be of the greatest possible worth to the world, that had led him to make his choice.
"Yes, dear Wilfrid; even brutality, rather than your exultation over the wreck of what was noble in you." With which phrase Cornelia swept from the room. "Seen Wilfrid?" was Mr. Pole's first cheery call to his daughters, on his return. An answer on that head did not seem to be required by him, for he went on: "Ah the boy's improved.
He laid his hand in a momentary caress upon his boy's shoulder, and sank back again, saying, "Take me out of this." Then Macdonald Bhain turned to Dan Murphy and gravely addressed him: "Dan Murphy, it is an ungodly and cowardly work you have done this day, and the curse of God will be on you if you will not repent."
The more unremitting, the more delicate was Manisty's care, the more tender was Lucy's devotion, the more plainly was Brooklyn aware of a pathetic, a mysterious isolation which seemed already to bring the chill of death into their little company. The boy's pain flowed back upon him, ten-fold augmented.
It was not until he became a man and had wandered through half the cities of the States that this expression of childish wonder passed out of his eyes and left them wholly keen and alert. At his boy's first contact with the cities, while he revised his synthesis of things, he also generalized afresh. People who lived in cities were effeminate.
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