Once more did Colonel Charles Woodville and Richard Mason stare into the
eyes of each other, and for a long time neither spoke.
"I managed to escape from Jackson with my little family," said the
colonel at length, "and I thought that in this, so to say, sylvan retreat
I might drop all undesirable acquaintances that I made there."
The whole scene was grotesque and wild to Dick. It was like a passage
out of the Arabian Nights, and an extraordinary spirit of recklessness
seized him.
"I appreciate your words, sir," he said, "and I can understand your
feelings. I have felt myself that it was never wise to go where one
might not be welcome, and yet chance plays us such tricks that neither
your wish nor mine is granted."
The old man then raised his head a little higher on the pillow. A spark
leaped from the burning eyes.
"A lad of spirit," he said. "I would not withhold praise where praise is
due. I recall meeting some one who resembled you very much. Perhaps a
brother of yours, eh?"
"No, he was not my brother."
"Well, it does not matter and we will not pursue the subject.
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