Perhaps also because he had never yet taken notice enough of
Zack's hair to care to look close at it. And now the resemblance was
traced, to what conclusion did it point? Plainly, from Zack's youth, to
none in connection with _him._ But what elder relatives had he? and
which of them was he most like?
Did he take after his father?
Mat was looking down at the sleeper, just then; something in the lad's
face troubled him, and kept his mind from pursuing that last thought.
He took the lock of hair from the pillow, and went into the front room.
There was anxiety and almost dread in his face, as he thought of the
fatally decisive question in relation to the momentous discovery he had
just made, which must be addressed to Zack when he awoke. He had never
really known how fond he was of his fellow lodger until now, when he
was conscious of a dull, numbing sensation of dismay at the prospect of
addressing that question to the friend who had lived as a brother with
him, since the day when they first met.
As the evening closed in, Zack woke. It was a relief to Mat, as he went
to the bedside, to know that his face could not now be clearly seen.
The burden of that terrible question pressed heavily on his heart,
while he held his comrade's feeble hand; while he answered as
considerately, yet as briefly as he could, the many inquiries addressed
to him; and while he listened patiently and silently to the sufferer's
long, wandering, faintly-uttered narrative of the accident that had
befallen him.
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