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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Darrel of the Blessed Isles"

He gave each a kindly greeting. It was like
the night of the party on Cedar Hill. A moment more, and the crowd
was filing away, some looking back curiously at Trove, who stood,
his arms about the old man.
"Courage, boy!" the latter was saying; "I know it cuts thee like a
sword, an' would to God I could have spared thee even this. Look!
in yon high window I can see the sunlight, an', believe me, there
is not a creature it shines upon so happy as I. God love thee,
boy, God love thee!"
He put his cheek upon that of the boy and stroked his hair gently.
Then a little time of silence, and the storm had passed.
"A fine, fine lad ye are," said Darrel, looking proudly at the
young man, who stood now quite composed. "Let me take thy hand.
Ay, 'tis a mighty arm ye have, an' some day, some day it will shake
the towers."
"You will both dine with me in my quarters at one," said the
warden, presently.
Trove turned with a look of surprise.
"Thank ye, sor; an' mind ye make room for Wit an' Happiness," said
the tinker.
"Bring them along--they're always welcome at my table," the warden
answered with a laugh.
"Know ye not they're in prison, now, for keeping bad company?" said
Darrel, as he turned.


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