Gay rugs lay on the yellow painted floor; the stove glistened with
polish at its every corner. The lamp shone brightly, and in its light
Caius stood breathless, wet, half naked. The picture of his father
looking up from the newspaper, of his mother standing before him in
alarmed surprise, seemed photographed in pain upon his brain for
minutes before he could find utterance. The smell of an abundant supper
his mother had set out for him choked him.
When he had at last spoken--told of the blow Farmer Day had struck, of
his wife's deed, and commanded that all the men that could be collected
should turn out to seek for the child--he was astonished at finding sobs
in the tones of his words. He became oblivious for the moment of his
parents, and leaned his face against the wooden wall of the room in a
convulsion of nervous feeling that was weeping without tears.
It did not in the least surprise his parents that he should cry--he was
only a child in their eyes. While the father bestirred himself to get a
cart and lanterns and men, the mother soothed her son, or, rather, she
addressed to him such kindly attentions as she supposed were soothing to
him. She did not know that her attention to his physical comfort hardly
entered his consciousness.
Caius went out again that night with those who went to examine the spot,
and test the current, and search the dark shores.
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