Dunlop went out to the front gate to see if there
were signs of his approach. At the same moment Allan entered the house
by the back door, and looked about for his mother. Impelled by a
"fatalistic necessity" he went up to her room, the sound of his
carefully modulated tread upon the stairway filling the heart of Rose
with delight, for was not that her own father, who had probably been
informed at the gate of the change in her condition and surroundings,
and who was coming up so softly in order to surprise her. Allan,
meanwhile, glancing in, saw nothing in the gray gloom but a small
figure in a well-known wrapper, stretched wearily upon the couch.
"Poor little mother," he thought. "She is quite tired out." He went up
to her intending to bestow a filial caress upon her cheek, but before
his design could be accomplished he was drawn close by a single arm
around his neck, and repeatedly kissed. "You blessed darling!" she
softly exclaimed, "here I've been waiting for you, and _waiting_ for
you and longing--_Oh_!" That silky moustache and that chin, that was
_not_ stubby, could they belong to a gentleman of sixty years? Her
right arm fell limp and useless as the other.
Pages:
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136